'■:  ■.^■•'.'' 


K^-^-fc-: -■;;:: 


THE 


Poems  of  Schiller 


EDGAR  A.  BOWRING.  C.  B,  M  P 


NEW  YORK 

VJTRST  AND   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


ORIGINAL  PREFACE. 


fT 

•2:7/ 


In  renluring  lo  submit  to  the  public  this  attempt  to  render 
into  English  the  poetical  works  of  the  great  German  lyrio 
bard,  the  TrauKlaior  feels  it  necessary  to  say  one  or  two  words 
respecting  the  motives  which  have  induced  him  to  undertake 
the  somewhat  daring  task  of  appearing  in  a  neia  inat  has  been 
already  partially  occupied  by  others. 

These  translations  were  originally  made  by  the  Translator 
for  hie  own  amusement ;  but  as  he  proceeded  in  what  has 
been  to  him  a  labor  of  love,  he  was  induced  gradually  to  ex- 
tend his  original  idea  of  making  a  mere  selection,  until  he  at 
length  found  himself  drawn  on  to  attempt  the  whole.  Ac- 
cordingly, the  following  pages  will  be  found  to  contain  a 
version  of  every  piece,  witJumt  exception,  that  is  contained  in 
the  authorized  editions  of  Schiller's  Poeyns  (including  the  fine 
dramatic  sketch  of  Semele,  which  is  now  given  aiiiougst  his 
other  poems),  and  even  all  the  minor  pieces,  which  it  has 
been  usual  to  omit,  as  being  without  interest  to  the  English 
reada.:.  But  the  Translator  has  thought  that,  in  ordav  iilly 
to  appreciate  the  poetic  genius  of  Sc/dller,  his  poems  shoulc! 
be  viewed  as  a  whale. 

With  the  same  object,  the  meter  of  the  original  has  been 
adhered  to  as  closely  as  possible  ;  and  in  only  a  few  unimpor- 
tant instances  has  this  rule  been  departed  from.  With  regard 
to  the  Elegiacs,  in  particular,  in  which  meter  some  of  the 
finest  productions  of  Schiller  are  "written  (as,  for  instance, 
Tlie  Walk),  the  Translator  hag  jjreserved  the  hexameter  and 
pentaL::eter  of  the  German,  not  only  because  they  admit  of 
a  more  faithful  rendering  of  the  original,  but  also  because  he 
conceives  thai  a  meter  which  has  been  employed  with  such 
singular  success  by  the  German  poet,  cannot  be  entirely  uu- 
suited  to  a  language  so  closely  allied  in  origin  and  construc- 
tion to  the  German  as  our  own.    Be  believes,  moreover,  that 


W  OEIGINAli  PKEFACE. 

there  is  a  growing  taste  in  this  country  for  classical  meten 
which,  it  cannot  be  denied,  have  until  very  recently  been  Tt\ 
Erom  popular.     It  is  with  respect  to  this  class  of  poems,  and 
tlso  to  several   of  Schiller's  earlier  pieces,  the  tneaning  of 
which  is  often  mystical,  and  the  meter  very  peouhar,  that  he 
especially  hopes  for  the  indulgence  of  the  reader. 

"With  regard  to  the  translation  itself,  the  Translator  has  in- 
variably kept  in  view  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  strictest 
fidelity  to  the  original,  his  desire  having  been  to  render 
Schillei's  P  ems  iato  English,  but  nothing  more.  He  feels 
that  it  woul^,  hiive  been  both  absurd  and  presumptuous  in 
liim  to  have  attempted  to  make  any  alterations  in  the  pro- 
ductions of  the  great  bard.  Whatever  may  be  the  language 
into  which  Schiller  is  translated,  whatever  may  be  the  nation 
where  he  is  read,  he  has  a  giant-voice  of  his  own,  wherewith 
to  make  himself  heard  and  understood. 

The  addition  of  an  appendix,  containiug  translations  of 
all  the  various  minor  poems,  &c. ,  found  in  Schiller's  dramatic 
works,  completes  the  list  of  his  recognized  pieces. 

I  will  now  be  necessary  to  say  a  few  words  respecting 
Ihe  Suppressed  Poems,  which  are  given  in  this  collection. 

Shortly  after  the  pubUcation  of  Sciiiller's  celebrated  Jiob. 
hers,  appeared  a  work  entitled  Anthology  for  the  Tear  1782, 
containing  a  collection  of  poems,  evidently  the  work  of  sev- 
eral hands.  It  soon  became  known  that  it  was  edited  by  Schil- 
ler, and  that  he  was  the  author  of  most  of  the  pieces.  This 
was  subsequently  fully  proved,  when  he  published  the  com- 
place  collection  of  his  works,  where  the  whole  of  the  Poems 
of  the  First  Period,  together  v/ith  two  or  three  of  the  Second, 
are  taken  from  the  Anthology.  But  it  was  also  known  that, 
for  various  reasons,  ho  had  suppressed  a  large  proportion  of 
the  pieces  there  published,  and  indisputably  written  by  him. 

The  Anthology  h^s.  for  a  long  time  been  a  hterary  rarity, 
known  only  to  a  few  connoisseurs;  and  is  probably  entirely 
unknown  to  the  Eughsh  reader.  It  has  been  reprinted  in 
Germany  very  recently;  and  advantage  has  been  taken  of 
its  republication  to  introduce  translations  of  the  whole  of 
the  poems   iu  it    which   critics   liave  pronounced    to   ba 


dcLffler's,  and  which  are.  notwithstanding,  excluded  from  tb4 
collected  editions  of  his  poems.  The  original  wild  and  fan- 
tatstic  dedication  and  preface  are  also  added. 

The  total  number  of  poemp  comprised  in  the  Antholoqy  is 
ninety,  of  whieh  thirty  are  given  elsewhere,  under  eith«-r  the 
Vir»t  or  the  Second  Period  of  th  3  recognized  poems.  Of  the 
others,  thirty-two  are  universally  pronounced  not  to  be  Fchil- 
ler's,  and  they  certainly  contain  sufficient  internal  evidence  of 
this  fact,  as  nothing  can  be  more  vapid  and  talentless  thai? 
they  are.  The  following  friends  of  the  poet,  a^e  beUeved  to 
have  been  amongst  their  contributors  :  Peterson,  Pfeiffer, 
Zuccato,  Von  Hovcu,  Haug,  and  Scharffenstein. 

The  remaining  twenty-eight  pieces,  compriBing  nearly  twelve 
huiidred  verses,  are  assigned  by  the  almost  unanimous  voice 
of  the  commentators — Hofifmeister,  Boas,  Doring,  Schwab, 
and  Rulow — to  Sjhiller  ;  and  there  are  very  few  concerning 
which  there  is  any  question.  They  are  accordingly  all  given 
here.  As  respects  the  thirty  admitted  into  the  collected 
poems,  the  latter  versions,  as  given  by  Schiller  himself,  have 
been  invariably  adhered  to,  rather  than  those  found  in  the 
Anthology,  whenever  any  difference  exists  between  them. 

Jlany  of  these  early  pieces  are  either  inscribed  to,  or  relate 
to,  the  Laura  whose  image  first  enslaved  his  mind,  and  whose 
influence  ever  him,  as  evinced  by  many  ot  his  most  impas- 
sioned poems,  appears  to  have  been  unbounded.*  The  siip- 
pressed  Reproach — ToLanra,  and  the  ode  To  the  Fates  here 
given,  may  bo  added  to  the  long  list  found  in  the  Poems  of  the 
First  Period. 

Six  pieces  among  the  Suppressed  Poems,  r.f  a  humorous 
character,  viz  ,  The  Journnhnts  and  Minos,  Bar-  us  in  t.  ' 
Pilhry,  the  Muses'  Revengf,  the  Paradel,  t  .eHjvocJ  Mriarcl 
Piuto,  and  Vie  S-ityr  andwy  I  fuse,  combined  with  the  Wal- 
lensteirCs  Camp,  and  the  -will-kuown  Celebrated  Woman,  ad- 
mitted into  the  published  editiois,  go  far  to  r  futo  the  opin- 
ion expressed  by  the  most  eminent  of  living  crities,  that  Schil- 
ler was  totally  defii.-ient  in  Jminor.     It  is  certain,  however, 

*  A  caiae,  presenting  foin  !  ciiriou-' points  of  rcseinhiance  to  that  of 
Schi  lor  and  his  LnurM,  is  rccoidcd  of  liinifclf  by  the  greatest  of  mod* 
era  Itallaa  poets,  Alfleri,  lu  his  £ulobiogrui)hy. 


ri  OEIGDJAL   PEEPACE. 

that  he  did  not  wield  this  power  in  the  manner  that  he  might 
have  done  this;  and  the  only  poem  of  his  matui'e years  where 
we  find  any  traces  of  it  is  his  Pegasus  in  Harness. 

The  sublimity  of  the  Hymn  to  the  Eternal,  and  the  terrific 
power  of  the  sketch  of  the  plague,  stand  in  strong  contrast  to 
the  gentle  but  deep  poetic  feeling  thatbreithc sin  every  lino  of 
the  poem  entitled  Thoughts  on  the  1st  October,  1781,  and  to 
the  pleasing  mixture  of  repose  and  playfulness  in  Tlie  Win- 
ter NigJit ;  and  the  bitterness  apparent  throughout  The  Bad 
Monarchs  is  no  bad  evidence  of  the  natural  strength  of 
Schiller's  passions,  before  he  obtained  that  complete  control 
over  them  which  his  later  works  evince. 

The  Ei^igrams,  &c.,  are,  for  the  most  part,  quite  insig- 
pificant,  and  only  worth  preserving  as  having  been  written  by 
SchiUer. 

The  poems  of  this  volume  are  arranged  in  the  precise  order 
of  the  latest  authorized  German  editions,  both  for  convenience 
of  reference,  and  b.  cause  it  does  not  appear  that  anything 
srould  be  gained  by  deviation  from  that  arrangement. 

The  Translator  is  gl  id  to  avail  himself  of  this  opportunity 
to  expi'ess  his  thanks  to  Lord  Hcbart  and  another  friend,* 
for  the  many  valuable  suggestions  with  which  they  have 
favored  him  during  the  progress  of  this  work  through  the 
press, 

London^  April,  1851, 


*  The  late  Mr.  Albany  Foublanque. 


PREFACij  TO  THE  SECf.iJ^D  EDITIO^T. 


Tn  this  Edition  the  Translator  luis  corrected  various  minor 
mistakes  and  inaccuracies  which  had  crept  into  the  Original 
Edition,  published  upwards  of  twenty  years  ago;  but 
substantially  it  differs  but  a  little  from  it.  His  excuse  for  its 
mauy  imperfections  is  only  to  be  found  in  his  youth  and 
inexperience  at  the  time  when  he  made  the  translations. 
He  has,  unfortunately  for  himself,  now  surmounted  the  first 
of  these  faults,  whilst  his  kind  readers  will  benefit  but  Uttl« 
irom  the  cure  of  the  saeond. 


THB 

TRANSLATOR'S  APOLOGY  TO  THE  KLADEK 


In  days  of  old,  while  Grecian  bards  jct  sang, 

And,  at  Olynipia  vying,  Bwept  the  chord, 
Throughout  the  -s'orld  the  -victor's  praises  rang, 

And  great,  exceeding  great,  was  his  reward. 
The  story  of  his  prowese  echoing  sjiraug 

From  land  to  land,  and  e'en  to  heaven  upsoar'd 
And  when  his  ashes  slumber'd  in  the  tomb, 

His  memory  long  survived  in  pristine  bloom, 

And  is  it  not  so  still?     Yes  I  Schiller,  thou 

Hast  earu'd  a  glorious — an  iumiortal  name: 
The  univtnial  voice  hath  wreath'd  thy  brow 

With  laurels  fair,  in  token  of  thy  fame  ; 
The  poet's  luantl;;  bright  thou  wearest  now, — 

Upon  tiiy  shoulders  placed  with  one  acclaim,' 
Thy  native  country  holds  thy  memory  di  ar  — 

It  still  hath  bloom'd  through  many  a  changing  yeoii 

Yet  thou  hafit  liv'd  not  for  one  land  alone  : 

For  the  whole  world  are  surely  meant  thy  lays. 
He,  then  who  sctks  to  make  thy  numbers  known 

To  those  whose  hearts  their  spell  may  upward  raise, 
If  in  the  language  cloth'd,  tliey  call  th*  ir  owm — ■ 

He  who  to  others'  ears  perchance  conveys 
E'en  a  faint  echo  of  thy  minstrelsy, 

He  who  dares  this,  may  haply  pardon'd  be. 

If,  then,  these  feeble  numbers  have  but  power 

E'en  on  one  bosom  pleasure  to  bestow; 
If  they  can  help  to  cheer  one  h-avy  hour, — 

Sooth.)  e'en  one  goitow,  lighien  e'en  one  woo; 
If  to  lif  's  garland  th.  y  ( a;i  a. id  one  flower, 

A'lhDiifh  unseen,  forgotten,  it  may  blow, — 

'J'h  n  will  the  prize  I  covi  t  be  obtmn'd  : 
I  ask  no  more, — my  utmost  wish  is  gatu'd, 


Oi.'OT'^N"!^.. 


bKIOtNAL   PREPAOE "•.•  ■- ' 

Translator's  Apology  totlie  Eeader..... 
JK-6iace  to  the  Second  Edition 


9  ■••  3  )a*o»««    •. 


._-  ::s. 


^0(m!8i  of  iJxt^ix^i  ^erxoA. 


PAGE 

Hector's  Farewell 17 

Ajualia.. 18 

A  i'lineral  riiaiitasy 18 

Phantasy  —To  Laura 20 

To  Laura  at  the    Haii^si- 

chord 22 

Rapture — To  Laura ,...  24 

The  Seci-etof  lieminisceuce  24 

Melancholy — To  Laura 26 

The   Infanticide 29 

The  Greatui  ss  of  the  World.  32 
Elepy   on  the  Death  of    a 

Young  Man 33 

IheBatUe 36 


PAQ^ 

Rousseau ,...,.. 39 

FrieudBhip.... 3!' 

Group  from  Tartarus.    ...  41 

ElyGUim 41 

The  Fugitive iJ 

The  Flowers 4'/ 

Ode  to  Spring 45 

ToMinnci , 45 

The  Triumph  of  Love 47 

Fortune  and  Wisdom........  52 

To  a  Moralist 63 

Count  Eborhard,  the  Groan- 

erof  Wurtemberg.,.. 53 

Semele.,..., .....o 56 


^omfi   oi  the  ^ttmd  ^ctiol 


Hymn  to  Joy 72 

The  Invincible  Armada... ..  7.") 

The  Conflict 7G 

Resignation 77 

The  Gods  of  Greece 80 


The  Artists,.,.. 83 

The  Celebrated  Woman....  9.' 
Verses  written  in  the  Album 

of  a  Young  Lady 99 


costicNii. 


gom§  of  the  Mxvii  gtmA, 


PiGE 

The  Meeting , 100 

To  Emma 101 

Tha   Secret 101 

Expectation 102 

Evening 104 

Longing , 105 

The  Pilgrim l^G 

The  Ideals lOT 

The  Maiden's  Lament 109 

The  Youth  ti*^  the  Brook.  ...110 
The  Favor  of  the  Moment.  Ill 

Mountain  Song...  112 

The  Alpine  Hunter 113 

Dithyramb 114 

The  Four  Ages  of  the  "World  1 15 

Punch   Song 117 

TomyFri-nds 118 

Punch  Song,  to  be  sung  in 

Northern  Countries 119 

Falowessian  Death  Lamentl  21 

The  Feast  of  Victory 122 

The  Lament  of  Ceres 127 

The  Eleusiniau  Festival....  1.30 
The  King  of  Poly  crates....  13(5 

The  Cranes  of  Ibycus 138 

Hero  and  Leauder 143 

Cassandra 150 

The  Hostage 153 

The  Diver 157 

The  Knight  of  Toggenbwrg.  1(  2 
The  Fight  with  the  Dragon.  1G4 
Pridolin,    or,    the  Waikto 

the  Iron  Foundry 171 

$h6  Count  of  llapsburg....l77 


PAfS 

The  Glove 181 

The  Veiled  Statue  at  Sais  .18i 
'i  he  Division  of  the  Farth.  185 
The  Unknown  Maiden...   186 

The  Ideal  and  Lfe. 18G 

Parables  and  Eiddles 19C 

The  Walk 196 

The  Song  of  the  Bell 204 

The  Power  of  Song 215 

The  Praise  of  Woman 21C 

Hope 218 

The  German  Muse 218 

The  Sower 219 

The  Merchant 219 

Odysseus 2.9 

Carthage 220 

The  Knighls  of  Malta 220 

German  Faith 221 

Columbus 222 

Pomptii     u:id    Herculane- 

um ...222 

The  lUad ........224 

Zeus  to  Hercules 225 

The  Anticpie  to  the  North- 
ern Wanderer .226 

The  Bards  of  Olde  i  Time.. 225 

The  Antiques  at  Paris 22G 

Thckla,  a  Spirit-Voice .227' 

The  Maid  of  Orleans ..22S 

Nicnia 228 

The  Playing  Child 229 

The  Sexes 229 

The  Power  cf  Woa:an 231 

The  Dance 23i 


COMTNT8. 


xii 


PAGE 

Fortune 2;}3 

GeniuR 235 

The  rijiJosophical  Egotist. 2;;8 

The  Words  of  Fui:h 2;!8 

The  Words  of  EiTor 2.";) 

Proverbs  of  Coutucins 240 

Light  and  Warmth 241 

Breadth  ana  Depth 242 

The  Guides  of  Life 242 

Arohimodes  and  the    Stu- 
dut 243 

Human  Knowledge 24;} 

The  Two  Paths  of  Virtue.  .24  I 

Honors 244 

Zenith  and  Nadir 21") 

Departure  from  Life 245 

The  Child  in  the  Cradle.... 24.5 

The  Immutable 245 

Theophania ,. .  245 

The  Highest 24') 

Immortality 24G 

Votive  Tablets 216 

The  best  State-Constitution255 

To  Lawgivers 255 

The  Honorable 255 

False  Impulse  to  Study 255 

The    Fountain    of   second* 

Youth 255 

The  Circle  of  Nature 255 

The   G<'uins   with   the  In- 
verted Torch 25G 

The  Virtue  of  Woman 250 

The  I  aire.-.t  Apparition 250 

The  Forum  of  Woman 250 

Female  Judgment 250 

The  Ideal  of  Woman 257 


X>AG> 

Expectation  andFulfiIlment257 

1  he  Common  Fate 257 

Human  Action 258 

The  Father 258 

Love  and  Desire 2.58 

Goodness  and  Greatness.... 258 

Tho  Impulses 258 

Naturalists  and  Transcen. 

dental  Philosophers 2.^8 

German  Genius 259 

Trifles 259 

Germany  and  her  Princes. 2G0 

To  Proselytizers 260 

The  Connecting  Medium. ..200 

The  Moment 201 

Gei-man  Comedj' 201 

Bookseller's  Annourcement261 
Dangerous  Oonseqi'iences...201 

Greekism 201 

The  Sunday  Children 202 

The  Philosophers 262 

G.G 205 

The  Homerides 265 

The  Moral  Poet 205 

The  Danaides 2C5 

The  Sublime  Subject 206 

The  Artifice ...2CG- 

Jeremiads 206 

Knowledge 267 

Kant  and  his  Commentators207 

Shakespcar's  Ghost 207 

The  Rivers 209 

The  Metaphysician 272 

The  Philosophers 272 

Pegasus  in  Harness 274 

The  Puppet-show  of  Life  ...270 


XIT 


00NTEKT8, 


PAGE 

To  a  Youug  Friend,  on  liis 
devoting  himself  to  Phil- 
osophy  277 

ThePoetiyof  Life 277 

To  Goethe,  on  his  producing 
Voltaire's    Mahomet    on 

the  Stage 278 

Nuptial  Ode 2S0 

Grecian  Genius 281 

Verses  written  in  the  Alb'tm 
of  a  friend 281 


PAOB 

Verses  Written  in  the  Folio 
Album    of    a    learned 

Friend 282 

The  Present 282 

William  Tell..... 282 

To  the  Hereditary  Prince 
of  Weimar,  on  his  pro- 
ceeding to  Paris 283 

The  Commencement  of  the 

New  Century ,...284- 

Farewell  to  the  Keador 28/" 


<^ttpprfissifd  ^oemjs. 


Original      Dedication      to 

Death 288 

Original  Preface 28!) 

The  Joumahsts  and  Minos.  292 

Bacchus  in  the  Pillory 291 ' 

Ppinosa 29G 

Epitaph 29G 

To  the  Fates 29G 

KlopstockandWieland 298 

Dialogue 298 

The  Parallel .....299 

The  Muses'  Eoveuge 299 

Epitaph  on  a  certain  Phys- 
iognomist  301 

Hypochondriacal  Pluto.  ...301 

Actaeon O...307 

Trust  in  Immortality 307 


Reproach — To  Laura 308 

The  Simple  Peasant 310 

The  Messiad 310 

Man's  Dignity 310 

Hymn  to  the  Eternal 313 

Thoughts  on  the  Ist  Octo- 
ber, 1781 314 

TheWirtemberger 31G 

The  Plague— a  Phantasy...31G 

The  Mole ..317 

Monument    of    Jloor    the 

Robber 317 

Quirl 318 

Jhe  BadMonarchs 319 

The  Peasants 321 

The  Satyr  and  my  Muse.... 323 
The  Winter  Night 326 


C0NTEKT8.  tV 

Prom  Tlie  l?obhers.  paoe 

Variations  iu  "Hector's  Farewell,'*  Act  IT.,  scene  2 320 

Aiualia's  f^ong  (additional  verse),  Act  III.,  scene  1 32'.> 

Choms  of  Ilobbors,  Act  IV. .scene  5 330 

Moor's  Song,  Act  IV.,  scene  5 33] 

tfrom  Wallenstein's  Camp. 

Kccniits  Song,  scene  7 ,..; 332 

Chorus  of  Soldiers,  &c.,  Scene  the  last 332 

Piom  William  Tell. 

Opening  Songs,  Act  I.,  scene  1 33.") 

Walter's  Song,  Act  III.,  scene  1 337 

Chorus  of  Brothers  of  Mercy,  Act  IV. .scene  3 337 

from  Turandot. 

Kiddle,  Act  II.,  scene  4 , 337 

From  Mary  Stuart. 

Marj's  Song,  Act  III.,  scene  1 338 

Prom  The  Maid  of  Orleans. 

Joan  of  Arc's  Soliloquy,  Prologue,  scene  4 339 

Joan's  Soliloquy  after  the  re-taking  of  Kheinis,  Act  IV., 
^v    ^ .841 


POEMS  OF  THE  FIRST  PERIOD. 

tot 

HECTOR'S  FAREWELL 


ANDROMACHE. 

^T  thou,  Hector,  hence  for  ever  going 
Where  Achilles,  -with  fierce  vengeance  glowing 

To  Piitroclus  piles  a  hecatomb  ? 
Who,  alas  !  will  te;ifh  thine  Infant  tnily 
Spears  to  hnrl,  the  Gods  to  honor  duly. 

When  thou'rt  bimed  in  dai-k  Orcus'  womb? 

HECTOE. 

Dearest  wife,  restrain  thy  tearful  sadness  ! 
for  the  fray  »iy  bosom  pants  with  madness, 

This  stout  arm  must  Pergamus  defend  ; 
For  my  household  Gods  all  dangers  braving, 
Should  I  fall,  my  Fatherland  in  saving. 

To  the  Stygian  Hood  I'll  glad  descend. 

ANDROMACHE. 

For  thy  clashing  arms  I  vain  shall  listen. 
In  thy  halls  thy  glaive  will  idly  glisten, 

Priam's  hero-race  in  dust  will  lie  ; 
Thou  wilt  go,  where  day  can  enter  never. 
Where  Cocytus  wails  'mid  deserts  ever. 

And  thy  Love  in  Lethe's  stream  will  die. 

HECTOR. 

Though  the  ardent  hopes,  the  thoiights  I  cherish, 
All  in  Lethe's  silent  stream  may  perisb. 

Yet  my  Love  shall  never  die  ! 
Haik  1  I  hear  the  foe  the  walls  assailing  ! 
Gird  my  sword  around  me, — cease  thy  wailing  1 

Hector's  Love  in  Lethe  cannot  die  !* 

*  In  the  original,  the  same  word  is  repeated,  as  it  is  here,  instead  ota 
rhyme  beiug  employed. 


IS 
AM  ALIA. 

Angel-fatr,  "Walhalla's  cliarms  displaying. 
Fairer  than  al'  mortal  youths  was  he  ; 

Mild  bis  look,  as  May-day  sunbeams  straying 
Gently  o'er  the  blue  and  glassy  sea. 

And  his  kisses  ! — what  ecstatic  feeling  f 
Like  two  flames  that  lovingly  entwine, 

Like  the  harp's  soft  tones  together  stealing 
Into  one  sweet  harmony  divine, — 

Soul  and  soul  embraced,  commingled,  blended, 
Lips  and  cheeks  with  trembling  passion  burn'd 

Heav'n  and  Earth,  in  pristine  chaos  ended, 
Round  the  blissful  Lovers  madly  turn'd. 

He  is  gone — and,  ah  !  with  bitter  anguish 
Vainly  now  I  breathe  my  mournful  sighs ; 

He  is  gone — in  hopeless  grief  I  languish, 
Eaxthly  joys  I  ne'er  again  can  prize  ! 


A  FUNERAL  PHANTASY. 

Lo  !  on  high  the  moon,  her  lustre  dead. 
O'er  the  death-like  grove  uplifts  her  head, 

fcighing  flits  the  spectre  through  the  gloom- 
Misty  clouds  are  shivering. 
Pallid  stars  are  quivering, 

Looking  down,  like  lamps  Avithin  a  tomb. 
Spirit-liko,  all  silent,  pale,  and  wan, 

Marshall'd  in  procession  dark  and  sad. 
To  the  sepulchre  a  crowd  moves  ou. 

In  the  grave-night's  dismal  emblems  clad. 


A  rtWERAL  PHA.NTAST.  W 

Wli(>  is  lie,  wlio,  trembling  on  his  crutch, 

Walks  with  gloomy  anJ  averted  eye, 
And  bowM  down  byiOestiny's  hard  t(jnch, 
Vents  his  sorrow  in  a  mournful  sigh 
O'er  tho  oollin  borne  in  silence  by? 
Was  it  "Father !"  from  tho  youth's  lips  came? 
Soon  a  damp  and  fearful  shudder  flies 
Through  his  gri'^f-emaciated  frame, 
And  his  silv'ry  hairs  on  end  uprise. 

All  his  fiery  woimds  now  bleed  anew  ! 

Through  his  soul,  hell's  bitter  torments  run  ! 
"Father  !"  'twas  that  from  tho  youth's  lips  flew. 

And  the  Father's  heart  hiith  whispered  "Son  !" 
Ice-cold,  ice-cold,  in  his  shroud  he  lies, — 
By  thy  dream,  so  sweet  and  golden  erst. 
Sweet  imd  golden,  Fathtn-,  thou  art  curst  ! 
Ice-cold,  ice-cold,  in  his  shroud  he  lies, 
Who  "was  once  thy  joy,  thy  Paradise  ! 

Mild,  as  when,  fann'd  by  Elysian  gale, 

Flora's  son  over  the  verdant  plain  skips, 
Girded  with  roses  that  fragi-anco  exhale. 

When  from  the  arms  of  Aurora  he  slips, — 
Onward  he  sped  o'er  the  sweet-smelling  field, 

Mirror'd  below  in  the  silvery  flood; 
Rapturous  flames  in  his  kiss  were  conceal'd, 

Chasing  the  maidens  in  amorous  mood. 

Bc^ldly  he  sprang  'mid  the  stir  of  mankind, 

As  o'er  the  mountains  a  youthful  roe   springs  ; 
Heav'nward  ascended  his  wish  unconfin'd, 

High  as  the  eagle  his  daring  flight  wings. 
Proud  as  the  steeds  that  in  passion  their  manes. 

Foaming  and  champing,  toss  round  in  wild  waves, 
Bearing  in  majesty  under  the  reins. 

Stood  he  alike  before  monarchs  and  slaves. 

Bright  as  a  spring-day,  his  life's  joyous  round 

Fleeted  in  Hesperus'  glory  away  ; 
Sighs  in  the  grape's  juice  all-golden  he  dvown'd, 

Sorrow  he  still'd  in  the  dance  light  and  gay. 
Worlds  were  asleep  in  tlie  promising  boy, 

H?!i  !  when  he  once  as  a  man  shall  be  ripe, — 
Fatlier,  r(\ioice — in  thy  promising  boy, 

Soon  as  the  slLuuberiug  germ  Bhall  be  ripe  1 


20  PHANTASY — TO   TiAtJRA. 

Not  SO,  Father—  hark !  the  churchyard  gates 

Groan,  and  lo,  the  iron  hinges  creak !  — 
See  the  dreaded  tomb  its  prey  awaits  ! — • 

Not  so — let  the  tears  course  down  thy  cheek  ! 
Tow'rd  Perfection  lov'd  one,  hasten  on. 

In  the  sun's  bright  path  with  joy  proceed ! 
Quench  thy  noble  thirsfe  for  bliss  alone 

In  Walhalla's  peace,  from  sorrow  freed  ! 

Te  will  meet — oh  thocight  of  rapture  full ! — 

Yonder,  at  the  gsite  of  Paradise  ! 
Hark  !  the  coffin  sinks  with  echo  dull ; 

As  ifc  re-ascends  the  death-rope  sighs  ! 
Then,  with  sorrow  drunk,  we  madly  roll'd, 

Lips  were  silent,  but  the  mute  eye  spoke-^ 
Stay,  uh,  stay  ! — we  grudg'd  tiic  tomb  so  cold; 

But  soon  warmer  tears  hi  torrents  broke. 

Lo  !  on  high  the  moon,  her  lustre  dead, 
O'er  the  deathlUce  grove  uplifts  her  head. 

Sighing  flits  the  spectre  through  the  gloom--= 
Misty  clouds  are  shivering, 
Pallid  stars  are  quivering. 

Looking  down  like  lamps  within  a  tomb. 
Dully  o'er  the  coffin  earth-flakes  rise, — 

All  the  wealth  of  earth  for  one  look  more  1 
Now  the  grave  barr'd  up  for  ever  lies; 
Duller,  duller  o'er  the  coffin  earth-flakes  rise  : 

Never  will  the  grave  its  prey  restore  ! 


PHANTASY— TO  LAURA. 

Name,  my  Laura,  name  the  whirl-compelling 
Bodies  to  unite  in  one  blest  whole — 

Name,  my  Laurn,  name  the  wondroiis  magic 
By  which  Soul  rejoins  its  kindred  Soul ! 

See  !  it  teaches  yonder  roving  Planets 
Round  the  sun  to  fly  in  endless  race  ; 

And  as  children  play  around  their  mother, 
Checker'd  circles  round  the  orb  to  trace. 


tHAXTASY — TO  LAURA. 


^ 


Every  rollinp  Btar,  by  thirst  tormoutcJ, 

Drinks  witli  joy  its  bright  and  golden  rain — 

Drinks  refreshment  from  its  He  ry  chalice, 
As  the  limbs  are  nourish'd  by  the  brain. 

'Tis  through  Love  that  atom  pairs  with  atom, 

In  a  liarmony  eternal,  sure  ; 
Ami  'tis  Love  that  links  tlie  spheres  together — 

Through  her  only,  systems  can  endure. 

Were  she  but  effaced  from  Nature's  clockwork. 
Into  dust  would  ily  the  mighty  world  ; 

O'er  thy  systems  thou  wouldst  weep,  great  Newton, 
When  with  giant  force  to  Chaos  hmi'd  ! 

Blot  the  Goddess  from  the  Spirit  Order, 
It  would  sink  in  death,  and  ne'er  arise. 

Were  Lovo  absent,  spring  would  prhul  us  never  ; 
Were  Love  absent,  none  their  God  would  prize  ! 

"Wliat  is  that,  which,  when  my  Laura  kisses. 
Dyes  my  cheek  with  llam(  s  of  purple  hue, 

Bids  my  bosom  bound  with  swiftt-r  motion. 
Like  a  fever  wild  my  veins  runs  through  ? 

Ev'ry  nerve  from  out  i's  barriers  rises. 
O'er  its  banks  the  blood  begins  to  flow  ; 

Body  seeks  to  join  itself  to  Body, 
Spirits  kirdle  in  one  blissful  glow. 

Powerful  as  in  the  dead  crtatioua 

That  eternal  impulses  obey. 
O'er  the  web  Aracliine-like  ot  Nature, — 

Living  Nature, — Love  exerts  her  sway. 

Laura,  see  how  Joyousness  embraces 

E'en  the  ovei-How  of  sorrows  wild  I 
How  e'en  rigid  d<>speratii>n  kindles 

On  the  loving  breast  (.£  Hope  so  mild. 

Sisterly  nnd  blissful  rnpturo  softens 

Gloomy  M.'huicholy's  fearful  Jiight, 
And,  deliver'd  of  its  golden  Ciiildren, 

"'"iO,  the  eye  pours  forth  its  radiance  bright  ! 


%2  TO  LAURA  AT  THE  HARPSICHORD. 

Does  not  a"wful  Sympatliy  rule  over 

E'en  the  realms  thwt  Evil  calls  its  own  ? 

For  'tis  Hell  our  crimes  are  ever  wooing, 
While  they  bear  a  grudge  'gainst  Heaven  alone  ! 

Shame,  Eepentance,  pair  Eumenides-like, 
Weave  round  sin  their  fearful  serpent-coils  : 

While  around  the  eagle- wings  of  Greatness 
Treach'rous  danger  winds  its  dreaded  toils. 

Ruin  oft  with  Pride  is  wont  to  trifle. 

Envy  upon  Fortune  loves  to  cling  ; 
On  her  brother.  Death,  with  arms  extended, 

Lust,  his  sister,  oft  is  wont  to  spring. 

On  the  wings  of  Love  the  Future  hastens 

In  the  arms  of  ages  past  to  lie  ; 
And  Saturnus,  as  he  onward  speeds  him, 

Long  hath  sovight  his  bride — Eternity  ! 

Soon  Saturnus  will  his  bride  discover, — 

So  the  mighty  Oracle  hath  said  ; 
Blazing  Worlds  will  turn  to  marriage  torches 

When  Eternity  with  Time  shall  wed  ! 


Then  a  fuirer,  far  more  beauteous  morning, 
Laura,  on  our  Love  shall  also  shine. 

Long  as  their  blest  bridal-night  enduring : — 
So  rejoice  thee,  Laura — Laura  mine  ! 


TO  LAURA  AT  THE  HARPSICHORD, 

When  o'er  the  chords  thy  fingers  stray, 
My  spirit  leaves  its  mortal  clay, 

A  statue   there  I  stand  ; 
Thy  spell  controls  e'en  life  and  death, 
A.S  when  the  nerves  a  living  breath 

Beceive  by  love's  command  I  * 


TO   LArRA   AT  THE   HARPSICHOKD.  28 

More  p;ontly  Zrphvr  sighs  along 
To  listen  to  tliy  magic  Bong  : 
The  systems  f<')rm'd  by  heav'nly  love 
To  sing  for  ever  ns  they  move, 
Piittse  in  titcir  endleas-wliirling  round 
To  ciiteh  tlie  raptnre-tc^eming  sound  ; 
'Tis  for  thy  strains  Uku  worshiiJ  thee, — 
Thy  look,  Euchautress,  fetters  mc! 

From  yonder  ehorus  fast-thronging  come 
Soui-ljreathir.g  nf)tes  with  rapturous  speed, 

As  when  from  out  their  heav'nly  home 
The  new-born  Seraphim  proceed  ; 

The  strains  pour  forth  their  magic  might. 

As  glitt'ring  suns  burst  through  the  night, 

When,  by  Creation's  storm  awoke. 

From  Chaos'  giaut-arm  they  broke. 

Now  sweet,  as  Avhen  the  silv'ry  wave 

Deliglits  the  pebbly  beacli  to  lave  ; 

And  now  majestic  as  the  sound 

Of  rolling  thunder  gath'ring  round  ; 
No^  peaiing  more  loudly,  as  when  from  you  height 
Descends  the. mad  mountain-stream,  foaming  and 
bright ; 

Now  in  a  song  of  love 

Dying  away. 
As  thro'  the  asiaen  grove 
Soft  zephyrs  play ; 
Kow  heavier  and  more  mournful  scmmus  the  strain, 
Alh  when  across  the  desert,  deutli-like  jjlain. 
Whence  whispers  dread  and  yells  despairing  rise, 
Cocytus'  sluggish,  wailing  current  sighs. 

Maiden  fair,  oh,  answer  me  ! 
Are  not  spirits  leagued  with  thee  ? 
Speak  they  in  the  realms  of  bliss 
Other  laugaage  e'er  than  this  ? 


*  The  nllusion  in  the  original  is  to  tliR  eeeiningly  magical  power 
poseeescd  by  ii  Jew  conjuror,  nauiuil  Philadulphia,  wbicl;  would  not 
De  understood  in  Kuglibli. 


2i  THE   SECRET   OP   KEMINlSOENOa. 

RAPTURE— TO   LAURA. 

Fkom  earth  I  seem  to  wing  my  flight, 
And  sun  myself  in  Heaven's  pure  light. 

When  thy  sweet  gaze  meets  mine 
I  dream  I  quatf  ethereal  dew, 
When  mine  own  form  I  mirror'd  view 

In  those  blue  eyes  divine  ! 

Blest  notes  from  Paradise  atar. 

Or  strains  from  some  benignant  star 

Enchant  my  ravish'd  ear  ; 
My  Muse  feels  then  the  shepherd's  hour 
When  silv'ry  tones  of  magic  pov/er 

Escape  (hose  lips  so  dear  ! 

Young  Loves  around  thee  fan   their  wings-- 
Behind,  the  madden'd  fir-tree  springs. 

As  v/hen  by  Orpheus  fir'd  ; 
The  poles  Avhiii  round  "u-ith  swifter  motion. 
When  in  the  dance,  like  waves  o'er  Ocean, 

Thy  footsteps  float  untir"d  ! 

Thy  look,  if  it  but  beam  with  love. 
Could  make  the  lifeless  mai'ble  move. 

And  hearts  in  r;)cks  enshrine  ; 
My  visions  to  reality 
Will  turn,  if,  Laura,  in  thine  eye 

I  read — that  thou  art  mine  ! 


THE  SECRET  OF   REMINISCENCE. 


What  unveils  to  me  the  yearning  glow 
Fix'd  for  ever  to  thy  lips  to  grow  ? 
What  tlie  longing  wish  thy  breatli  to  drink, — 
In  thy  Being  blest,  in  death  to  sink 

When  thy  look  steals  o'er  me  ? 


THE   SECRET   Of   REMINISCENCE.  25 

Ah  ^hen  Slaves  without,  r*  sistance  yield 
To  the  Victor  iu  the;  batth'-field, 
So  my  Bi'uses  in  tlie  inoTneut  tly 
O'er  the  I; ridge  of  Life  tumultuoiisly 

Wheuthou  stand'stb^foremel 

Speak  !   Why  should  they  from  their  Master  roam  ? 
Do  my  Seuaes  youder  seek  tlieir  home  ? 
Or  doscver'd  brethren  meet  again, 
Casting  oil'  the  Body's  h'avy  chain, 

Where  thy  foot  hath  Ughted? 

Were  our  Beings  once  together  twin'd  ? 
Was  it  therefore  tl<at  our  bosoms  pin'd  ? 
Were  we  in  the  light  of  suns  now  dead. 
In  the  days  of  rapture  long  since  fled, 

Into  One  united  ? 

iyo  !  we  were  so  !  thou  wert  link'd  with  me, 
in  iEone  that  has  ceas'd  to  be  ; 
On  the  mournful  page  of  vauish'd  time, 
By  my  Muse  were  read  these  words  sublime  . 

Nought  thy  love  can  sever  I 

And  in  Being  closely  twin'd  and  fair, 
I  too  w'ondering  saw  it  written  there, — 
We  were  then  a  Life,  a  Deity, — 
And  the  world  seem'd  order'd  then  to  lie 

'Neatli  our  sway  for  ever. 

And,  to  meet  us,  nectar-fountains  still 
Pour'd  for  ever  fortli  their  blissful  rill ; 
Forcibly  we  broke  the  seal  of  Tilings, 
And  to  Truth's  bright  sunny  hill  our  wings 

Joyously  were  soaring. 

Laura,  weep  ! — this  Deity  hath  flown,— 
Thou  and  I  his  ruins  are  alone  ; 
By  a  thirst  unquenchable  we're  driven 
Our  lost  Being  to  embrace  ;  — tow'rd  Heaven 

Turns  our  gaze  imploring. 


26  MEIiANCHOLT — TO   LAtJEA. 

Therefore,  Laura,  is  tliis  yearning  glow 
Fix'd  for  ever  to  tliy  lips  to  grow, 
And  the  longing  wish  thy  breath  to  drink, 
In  thy  Being  blest,  iu  deatli  to  sink 

When  thy  look  steals  o'er  me  j 

And  as  Slaves  without  resistance  yield, 
To  the  Victor  in  the  battle-field. 
Therefore  do  my  ravish'd  Senses  fly 
O'er  the  bridge  of  Life  tnmxiltuously, 

When  thou  stand'st  before  me ! 

Therefore  do  they  from  their  Master  roam  1 
Therefore  do  my  Senses  seek  their  home  ! 
Casting  off  the  Body's  heavy  chain, 
Those  long-sever'd  brethren  kiss  again, 

Hush'd  is  all  their  sighing  ! 

And  thoii,  too — when  on  me  fell  thine  eye. 
What  disclos'd  thy  cheek's  deep-purisle  dye  ? 
Tow'rd  each  other,  like  relations  dear, 
As  an  exile  to  his  home  draws  near. 

Were  we  not  then  Hying  ? 


MELANCHOLY— TO  LAURA- 

Lauka, — in  thy  golden  gaze 

Burns  the  morning  sunbeam's  glow, 

In  thy  cheek  the  red  blood  plays. 
And  thy  tears,  that  pearl-like  flow, 
Eapture  as  their  Mother  know — 

He  whom  those  fair  drops  bedew, 

Who  therein  a  God  can  view. 
All,  the  youth  who  thus  rewarded  sighs. 

Sees  new  suns  begin  to  rise  ! 

And  thy  Spirit,  bright  and  clear, 
As  the  glassy  waves  appear, 

Turns  to  May  the  Autumn  sad  ; 
Deserts  wild,  inspiring  fear. 

In  thy  genial  rays  axe  glad. 


MELANCHOLY — TO   LAUBA.  27 

Distant  Pnturo,  gloomy,  cold, 
In  thy  star  is  turn'cl  to  golil ; 
Smil'st  thou  at  tlxi  Grnces'  harmony  ? 
I  must  Wiip  those  cliarma  to  sec  ! 

Have  not  Night's  all-dronded  Powers 

Uudennin'tl  Eartli's  fastness  long  ? 
Yes  !  onr  proudly-soaring  towers, 

And  onr  cities,  stately,  strong. 
All  cm  monUrring  bones  repose  ; 

From  Decay  their  fragTant  bloom 
Drink  thy  flowers  ;  thy  cuxTeut  Hows 

From  the  hollow  of  a — tomb  ! 

Laura,  yonder  floating  planets,  see  ! 

Let  them  of  their  Worlds  discourse  to  thee  I 

'Neath  their  magic  Circle's  sway. 

Thousand  springs  have  puss'd  away, 

Thousand  thrones  the  skies  have  sought. 

Thousand  fearful  fights  been  fought. 

Wouldst  thou  find  their  trace  again, 

Seek  it  on  the  iron  plain  ! 
Earlier,  latei",  ripe  to  pass 
To  the  grave, — the  wheels,  alas, 

Of  the  Planets  clogg'd  remain ! 

Thrice  look  around, — and  lo  !  the  sun's  bright  raya 
Li  the  death-night's  Ocean  quench  their  blaze  ; 
Ask  me  how  thi'  beums  are  f  ann'd  to  flame  1 
Dost  thou  boast  thy  sjiarkling  eye, 
Or  thy  cheek's  fresh  purple  dye. 
That  for  crumbling  Mould  first  came  ? 
For  the  hues  he  lent  to  thee, 
Maiile.n,  Death  with  usury 
Heavy  interest  soon  will  claim  ! 

Maiden,  do  not  scorn  that  mighty  one  ! 

On  the  cheek  a  fairer,  brighter  dye 
Is,  alas  !  but  Death's  more  beauteous  throne  ; 

From  behind  that  tlow'ry  tapi^stry 
Marks  his  prey  tln^  Spoiler  for  his  own, 
Laura — in  thy  Worshipper  confide  ! 

'TiB  tow  rd  Death  aloue  thine  eyes  now  strain  ; 


M  MfeLANCHOLT — T6  LAtTSA. 

And  thy  bsaming  glances  only  drain 
Life's  frail  lamp  so  niggardly  supplied. 
"Yet  my  pulses,  "  boastest  tbou, 

"  Throb  in  joyous  youthful  play" — ■- 
Ah  !  the  Tyrant's  creatures  now 
Are  but  hast'ning  tow'rds  Decay. 

And  this  smile  the  blast  of  Death 
Scatters,  as  the  zephyr's  breath 

Scatters  rainbow-color'd  foam. 
Vain  thou  seek'st  to  find  its  trace, 
E'en  from  Nature's  spring-like  grace. 

E'en  from  Life,  as  from  his  home. 
Sallies  the  Destroyers  base  I 

Stripp'd  of  leaves  I  see  tliy  lifeless  roses, 

Pale  and  dead  thy  mouth  so  sweet  of  yore, 
And  thy  cheek,  that  dimple  soft  discloses, 

By  the  wintry  tempest  f  urrow'd  o'er. 
Gloomy  years  "svill,  gathering  blacker,  stronger. 

Cloud  the  silver-spring  ol  Infancy — 
Then  will  Laiira — Laura  love  no  longer, 

Then  will  Laura  lovely  cease  to  be  1 

Maiden  !  as  an  oak  thy  Bard  still  rears  his  head  ; 

Blunt  against  my  rock-like  youthful  might 
Falls  the  death-spear's  shaft,  its  vigor  fled  ; 

And  my  glances, — burning  as  the  light 
Of  yon  Heaven, — my  Soul  more  firrcely  glowing 

Than  the  light  of  yon  eternal  Heaven, 

O'er  its  own  World's  heaving  Ocean  driven^ 
Piling  rocks  and  overthrowing ; 

Boldly  through  the  World  my  thoughts  are  sloering; 
Nothing  save  their  barriers  fearing  ! 

Glow'st  thou,  Laura  ? — Swells  thy  haughty  breast  ? 
Learn  then.  Maiden,  that  this  drink  bo  blest. 

That  tliiscup  of  (xod-like  seeming, 

Laura,  is  with  Poison  teeming  ! 

Hapless  they  who  ever  trust 

Sparks  divine  to  forge  from  dust ! 

Ah  !  the  boldest  Harmony 

'Mongst  the  notes  but  discord  breeds, — 


THE   rNTAJsTICIDR.  29 

GeniuB,  /i^lo'wnng  Sparlc  from  high, 

On  Life's  glim'ring  lamp  ]nzt  feeda. 

Liir'tl  from  Life's  bright  tlirone  avay, 

Ev'ry  (Taolcr  mnrka  Jiimns  his  pvc-y  ! 
Ah  !  o'(  n  now,  witli  Bhamch-ss  passion  fir'd, 
'Gainst  me  all  my  Spirits  have  conspir'd ! 
Let — I  feel  it— two  short  springs  ilvt  t  by, 

Laura — amltiiis  tottering  houso  of  clay 
Will  with  fearful  ruin  on  me  lie, 

Queuc"hi))g  me  in  my  self-ldndlcJ  ray  ! — 

Weep'st  thou,  Laura  ? — Be  that  tear  denied 
Which  as  Age's  penance  is  supplied  ! 

Hence  !  away  !  thou  tear,  thou  sinner  mean  ! 
Wouldst  thou,  Laura,  that  my  strength  should  sink?-^ 
That  I  trembling  from  that  Sun  should  shrink 

WTio  the  strijjliug's  cagle-coui'se  hath  seen  ? 
That  my  bosom's  heavenly  liame  so  bright 

'Neath  a  frozen  heart's  cold  touch  should  perish  ? — 
That  my  Spirit  should  be  reft  of  sight  ? — 

Must  I  curse  the  sins  that  most  I  cherish? 

No  !  away  !  thou  tear,  thou  sinner  mean  ! 
Break  the  flow 'ret  in  its  fairest  bloom  ! 
Quencli,  O  Youtli,  with  that  deep  look  of  gloom, 

Quench  with  bitter  tears  my  torch's  ray  ! 
As  when  o'er  the  scene  that  most  enthrals 
On  the  tragic  stage,  the  curtain  falls 

Though  each  shadow  flies, — the  crowds  all-breathless 
Btay ! 


THE  INFANTICIDE. 

Hark  ! — the  bells  are  tolling  mournfully. 

And  the  dial's  hand  hatii  run  its  race. 
In  the  name  of  God,  so  let  it  be  ! 

Grave-attendants, — to  the  faial  place  I 
Take,  O  World,  this  lust  departing  kiss  ! 

Take,  O  World,  these  bitter  tears  away  ! 
Yet  thy  Poison  has  a  taste  of  bliss  ! 

BoBom-poisoner,  we  are  quit  to-day  ! 


30  THE   INFANTICIDE. 

Fare  thee  well,  thou  happiness  of  Earth, 

Now  to  be  exchang'd  for  oriiTubliug  mould 
Fare  ye  well,  ye  days  of  rosy  birth, 

That  the  maiden  revell'd  in  of  old  ! 
Fare  ye  well,  ye  gold-embroider'd  di'eams, 

Heaven-descended  Phantasies  so  briglit ! 
Ah,  they  perish'd  in  their  morning  beams, 

Ne'er  again  to  blossom  to  the  light ! 

I  was  deck'd  with  rosy  ribbons  fair. 

Clad  in  Innocence's  swan-hke  dress. 
And  my  bright  and  loosely-flowing  hair 

Kosebuds  sweet  then  carelessly  did  press. 
"Woe,  oil,  woe  !  though  garments  white  still  grace 

Her  who  now  is  Hell's  sad  sacrifice, 
Yet,  alas,  those  rosy  ribbons'  place 

Now  the  fillet  black  of  Death  supplies  , 

Weep  for  me,  oh,  ye  who  never  fell  ! 

Ye  for  whom  the  guileless  lily  blows. 
On  whose  gentle  bosoms  as  they  s^neii 

Nature  her  heroic  strength  bestow.c  '. 
Woe  ! — this  heart  has  felt  frail  passion's  QharmSy 

Feeling  now  my  judgment-sword  xust  be  i 
Woe  ! — encircled  in  the  False  One's  arms. 
Slept  my  Virtue, — ah,  too  easily  ! 

Ah,  forgetting  me,  that  serpent-heart 

Makes  Another  now  perchance  its  prey, — ■ 
Overflows,  when  I  to  Death  depart, 

At  her  toilet  in  some  amorous  play  !  — 
Sports,  it  may  be,  with  his  Maiden's  hair, 

Drink  the  kiss  that  she  resi^onsive  brings, 
When  xijion  the  death-block  spurting  there, 

From  my  body,  high  the  life-blood  springs  \ 

Joseph  !  Joseph  !  many  a  weary  mile 

May  Louisa's  d(Mit]i-song  follow  thee  ! 
And  the  belfrcy's  hollow  peal  the  while 

On  thy  startled  ear  strike  fearfully  1 
Wlien  Love's  soft  and  murmuring  tones  may  swell 

Tow'rd  thee  from  some  Maiden's  tender  lijas, 
Sudden  let  them  plant  a  Wound  from  Hell, 

Where  Joy's  rosy  foim  its  Being  sips  ! 


THE  INFANTICIDE.  3J 

Traitor  !  heeil'st  tliou  not  Louisa's  smart  ? — 

Not,  thou  Cruel  on.^,  a  Womsiu's  shame  ? — 
Not  tlio  unborn  Lif;3  bonoath  my  hoart  ? — 

Not  what  c'cn  tho  ti-^cr  fierce  fl-ouUl  tame  ? 
See  !  his  sails  now  proudly  leavo  this  land. 

Sadly  aftia-  thorn  is  turu'd  mine  eye, 
Wliilo  around  tho  Mai.ls  on  Seine's  far  strand, 

Breathes  he  forth  liis  false  and  treach'rous  sigh '. 

And  my  baby, — wrapp'd  in  soft  repose — 

Calmly  lay  it  on  its  mother's  breast ; 
In  the  beauty  of  the  morning  rose 

t^  Vto^tly  on  me  smilVl  the  infant  blest. 
Deadly-lovely  was  each  feature  fair 

Of  its  blissful  imago  tow'rd  me  bent ; 
While  by  Love  and  visions  of  Despair 

Was  its  mother's  toitured  bosom  rent. 

"  Woman,  whcrc's  my  Father?"— Thus  it  spoke 

In  its  innocent  mute  timnder  tone ; 
"Woman,  whore's  thy  Spouse?" — responoivo  bfuke 

From  my  inmost  heart,  with  heavy  groan. 
Him  who  now  many  other  children  kiss. 

Orphan,  thou,  alas,  wilt  seek  in  vain  I 
Tiiou  wilt  curse  the  moment  of  our  blibs 

When  the  Bastard's  name  inflicts  its  Btaiiv 

And  thy  mother — in  her  heart  is  Hell  1 

Lonely  sits  she  in  wide  Nature's  All. 
Thirsting  ever  at  the  blissful  well. 

Which  thy  sight  converts  to  bitter  gall. 
Ah  !  with  ev'ry  sound  from  thee  ansu 

Madden'd  feelings  of  departed  joy, 
And  Death's  bitter  arrow  'gainst  me  ilies, 

From  the  smiling  glances  of  ray  Boy. 

Hell  surrounds  me  when  thy  form  I  miss  ; 

Hell,  whene'er  mine  eyes  thy  form  behold  I 
And  the  Furies'  lash  is  now  thy  Idss, 

That  from  his  lips  ravish'd  me  of  old  ! 
From  the  Grave  his  Oath  still  thunders  back^ 

Ever  does  his  Perjury  kill  on — 
Here  around  me  twined  tho  Hydra  black, 

Add  the  work  of  Murder  soon  waa  dou«  I 


32  THE   GKEATNESS  OF  THE  WOELI). 

Joseph  !  Joseph  !  many  a  "weary  mile 

May  the  phantom  dread  thy  steps  pursue, 
Catch  thee  in  its  ice-cokl  arms  the  while, 

Frora  thy  dreams  ol  rajjture  wake  thee,  too ! 
May  thine  infant's  dying  gaze  so  sad 

Glare  down  from  the  softly  glimm'ring  star, 
Meet  thee  in  its  bloody  vesture  clad, 

Scourge  thee  back  from  Paradise  afar  ! 

See  !  there  lay  it  lifeless  at  my  feet — 

Coldly  staring,  with  a  mind  confus'd 
Saw  I  then  its  Life-blood  current  fleet. 

And  my  own  Life  with  that  current  ooz'd  ; — 
Fearful  iy  the  messengers  of  doom 

Knock  e'en  now, — more  fearfully  my  heart  ! 
Gladly  haste  I,  in  the  chilly  tomb 

Evermore  to  quench  my  burning  smart. 

Joseph  !  thoii  may'st  pardon'd  be  by  Heaven, 

Th')u  art  pardon'd  by  the  Sinner,  too  ! 
To  the  Earth  my  wrongs  be  hencefortli  given  ! 

Eake,  ye  Flame's,  the  Death-pile  thro'  and  thro'  2 
Joy  I  oh,  Joy  !     His  letters  burn  on  high, 

And  a  conquering  flame  his  oath  devours. 
While  his  kissf^s  upwards  blazing  fly  ! — 

Yet  was  aught  so  dear  in  happier  hours  ! 

Sisters,  trust  your  youthful  roses  ne'er. 

Trust  them  ne'er  to  false  Man's  treach'rous  vo-wl 
Beauty  for  my  Virtu*  laid  its  snare, — 

On  the  Place  of  Death  I  curse  it  now  ! 
Tears  ? — From  stranglers'  eyes  can  tears,  then,  gush  ? 

Let  my  face  the  bandage  quickly  vni 
Hangman,  canst  not  thou  a  lily  crush? 

Do  not  tremble,  Hangman  pale  ! 


THE  GREA  TNES8   OF  THE  WORLD. 

Tuno'  the  world  which  the  Spirit  creative  and  Jiind, 
Fust  form'd  out  of  Chaos,  I  liy  like  the  wiud, 

Until  on  the  Btrnnd 

Of  its  billows  Hand, 
Mv  anchor  cast  f  irth  where  the  breeze  blows  no  more. 
And  Creation's  last  boundary  stands  on  the  shore. 


fiLEOY  ON  THE  DEATH  Of  A  YorNG  MAN.  39 

I  saw  infant  stars  into  Boiiic:  ariso, 

For  tliousauds  oi  years  tu  mil  ou  throiigli  the  skies  ; 

I  saw  tJKmi  ill  play 

Seek  their  goal  far  away. — 
For  a  moment  my  fiigitive  gaze  wauderM  on, — 
I  look'il  roimd  me,  tmd  lo  ! — all  these  bright  stars  had 
llown  ! 

Madjy  yearning  to  reach  the  dark  KingdoBi  of  Night, 
I  boldly  steer  on  -with  the  speed  of  Iho  light ; 

All  misty  and  drear 

The  dim  Heavens  appear. 
While  embryo  systems  and  seas  at  their  source 
Are  whirling  around  the  Sun- Wanderer's  course. 

When  sudden  a  Pilgrim  I  see  drawing  near 
Along  the   lone   path. — "  Stay  !      ^Miat  seekest    thou 
here?" 

"  My  bark,  tempest-tost, 
"  Seeks  the  world's  distant  coast, 
•'I   sail  tow'rd  the   laud  Avhere  the   breeze  blows   no 

more, 
"  And  Creation's  las*  boundary  stands  on  the  shore." 

"  Stay,  thou  eflilest  in  vain  !  'Tis  Infinity  yonder !" — 
"  "Tis  iNFTMTr,   too,   where   thou,  Pilgrim,    wouldest 
wander  ! 

"  Eagle  thoughts  that  aspire, 

"  Let  your  proud  pinions  tire  ) 
"  For  'tis  hero  that  sweet  Phantasy,  bold  to  the  last, 
"  Her  anchor  iu  hopeless  dejection  must  east !" 


ELEGY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  MAN.' 

MoimNFUii  groans,  as  when  the  Tempest  lowers, 

Echo  from  the  dreamy  hous(^  of  Woe ; 
Death-notes  rise  from  yonder  Minster's  towers  I 

Bearing  out  a  youth  they  slowly  go  ; 
Yes  !  a  ;)oath — unripe  yet  for  the  Bier, 

Gather'd  in  the  spring-time  of  his  days. 


*  The  youth's  uamc  was  John  Christian  VTeckberlin. 


S4  ELEGY  ON  THE   DEATH   OP   A  YOTTNa  MAlJ. 

Thrilling  yet  Avith  pulses  strong  and  clear, 
Witli  the  flame  tliat  iu  his  bright  eye  plays — 

Yes  !  a  Son — the  Idol  of  his  Mother, 

(Oh,  her  moiu-ufiil  sigh  shows  that  too  well !) 

Yes  !  my  Bosom-friend, — alas,  my  Brother  ! — 
Up  !  each  3fan,  the  sad  procession  swell  ! 


Do  ye  boast,  ye  Pines,  so  grey  and  old, 

Stoi-ms  to  brave,  with  thunderbolts  to  sport? 
And  ye  Hills,  that  ye  the  Heavens  uphold  ? 

And,  ye  Heavens,  that  ye  the  Snns  support? 
Boasts  the  greybeard,  who  on  haughty  Deeds 

As  on  billows,  seeks  Perfection's  height  ? 
Boasts  the  Hero,  whom  his  Prowess  leads 

Up  to  the  future  Glory's  Temple  bright  ? 
If  the  gnawing  Avorms  the  flow 'ret  blast. 

Who  can  madly  think  he  ne'er  decay  ? 
Who  above,  below,  can  hope  to  last, 

If  the  young  man's  life  thus  fleets  away? 

Joyously  his  days  of  youth  so  glad 
Danced  along  in  rosy  garb  beclad, 

And  the  world,  the  world  was  then  so  sweet ! 
And  how  kindly,  how  enchantingly 
Smiled  the  Future, — with  what  golden  eye 

Did  Life's  Paradise  his  moments  greet ! 
While  the  tear  his  Mother's  eye  escap'd, 
Under  him  the  Eealmof  Shadows  gap'd, 

And  the  Fates  his  thread  began  to  sever, — 
Eai-th  and  Heaven  then  vanish 'd  from  his  sightj, 
From  the  Grave-Thought  shrank  he  in  aflfright-= 

Sweet  the  world  is  to  the  Dying  ever  ! 

Dumb  and  deaf  'tis  in  that  narrow  place, 

Deep  the  Slumbers  of  the  Buried  One  \ 
Brother !  Ah,  in  ever-slack'ning  race 

All  tftiy  hopes  their  circuit  cease  to  run  ! 
Sunbenms  oft  thy  Jiative  hill  still  lave. 

But  their  glow  thou  never  more  canst  feel  j 
O'er  its  flowers  the  Ze])hyr'8  pinions  wave, 

O'er  thine  ear  its  murmur  ue'er  can  steal ; 


ELE'JT   ON   THE   DEATH   OF   A   YOUNG   MAN.  C 

Love  will  never  tiiige  thine  eye  with  pfoUl, 
Ne'er  wilt  thou  embrace  tliy  l)looniing  britle. 

Not  e'en  tliongli  our  tears  iu  t(jrr(;ntH  rollM — 
Death  must  now  thine  eye  for  ever  hide  ! 

Yet  'tis  well  ! — for  precious  is  thy  Eest, 

In  that  narrow  house  the  Sleep  is  calm  ; 
Tliere,  with  llai)tui-o,  Sorrow  leaves  the  breast, — 

Man's  afHictious  there  no  loupe  rliarm. 
Slander  may  now  wildly  rave  o'er  thee, 

And  Temptation  vomit  Poison  Fell, 
O'er  thee  wi'augle  on  the  Pharisee, 

Miird'nms  bigots  banish  thee  to  Hell ! 
Rogues  beneath  Apostle-masks  may  leer, 

And  the  Bastard  Child  of  Justice  play, 
As  it  were  with  dice  Avith  mankind  here. 

And  so  on,  until  the  Judgment  Day  ! 

O'er  thea  F-^rf  une  still  may  juggle  on, 

For  her  piim->ns  blindly  look  around, — 
Man  now  totters  on  lii.s  slagTering  thronej 

And  iu  di-eary  i.nddles  now  be  found  ! 
Blest  art  thou,  witt  iu  thy  narrow  cell! 

To  this  stir  of  tra,y-comedy, 
To  these  Forhine-Wfir^s  tl>ut  madly  swell. 

To  this  vain  and  chiJu'sh  Lotteiy, 
To  this  busy  crowd  etlectiup  naught. 

To  this  rest  with  labor  teenruig  o'er. 
Brother  ! — to  this  Heaven  w  ith  devils  fraught. 

Now  thine  eyes  have  closed  lor  evermore. 

Fare  thee  well,  oh,  thou  to  memory  dear. 

By  our  blessings  luU'd  to  slumbers  sweet  ' 
Sleep  on  calmly  iu  thy  prison  drear,— 

Sleep  on  calmly  till  agaui  we  meet ' 
Till  the  loud  Almighty  trumpet  sounds, 

Echoing  through  these  corpse-encumber'd  hills, 
Till  God's  storm-wind,  biu'sting  through  the  bounds 

Placed  by  Death,  with  Life  those  Coriisas  tills — 
Till,  impregnate!  with  Jehovah's  blast, 

Graves  bring  forth,  and  at  His  menace  dread. 
In  the  smoke  of  Planets  melting  fast, 

Once  again  the  tombs  give  up  theii-  Dead  I 


36  THE    BATTLE- 

Not  in  Worlds,  as  dreamt  of  by  the  Wise, 

Not  in  Heavens,  as  sung  in  Poets'  song, 
Not  in  e'en  the  People's  Paradise — 

Yet  we  shall  o'ertake  thee,  and  ere  long. 
Is  that  true  which  cheer 'd  the  Pilgrim's  gloom  ? 

Is  it  true  that  Thoughts  can  yonder  be  ? 
True,  that  Virtue  guides  us  o'er  the  tomb  ? 

Thi.t  'tis  more  than  empty  Phantasy  ? 
All  these  riddles  are  to  thee  uuveil'd  ! 

Truth  thy  Soul  ecstatic  now  drinks  up, 
Truth  in  radiance  thousandfold  exhal'd 

From  the  Mighty  Father's  blissful  cup. 

Dark  and  silent  Bearers  draw,  then,  nigh  ! 

To  the  Slayer  serve  the  Feast  the  while  ! 
Cease,  ye  Mourners,  cease  your  wailing  cry  ! 

Dust  on  dust  upon  the  Body  pile  ! 
fVTiere's  the  Man  who  God  to  tempt  presumes  ? 

Where  the  eye  that  through  the  Gulf  can  see  ? 
Holy,  holy,  holy  art  thou,  God  of  Tombs  ! 

We,  with  awful  trembling,  worship  Thee ! 
Dust  may  back  to  native  diist  be  ground, 

From  its  crumbling  house  the  Spirit  fly. 
And  the  storm  its  ashes  strew  around, — 

But  its  Love,  its  Love  shall  never  die ! 


THE  BATTLE, 

With  a  dull,  heavy  tread. 

Like  a  storm-cloud  o'erhead. 
Moves  the  march  through  the  wide  plain  so  green  ; 

And  the  field  for  the  stilfe, 

Where  the  stake  is  man's  life. 
In  its  boundless  expanse  is  now  seen. 

Tow'rd  the  ground  ev'ry  eye  is  uneasily  cast, 

And  each  wai-rior's  heart  'gainst  his  ribs  beateth  fast. 

To  the  front  now  the  Major  with  thunderiug  i)ace 
Gallops  on  past  each  pallid  and  death-lighte<l  face — 

Halt ! 
A  id  the  regiments  obey  that  stern  word  of  command^ 
T  idle  in  eileuce  unbroken  the  front  takes  its  stand. 


THE   BATPLB.  37 

Glittering  in  tlu-  ninriiing  beam, 
Bee  ye  on  yon  bill  tbo  gleam  ? 
Is't  tbe  banner  of  the  foe  ? 
Yes,  their  waving  liag  we  know  1 

Wife  and   liildren  of  my  love, 
God  jwotect  ye  from  above  ! 

Now  merrily,  mennly  rise  on  tlie  ear 
The  roll  of  the  dnim  and  the  fife's  note  so  clear  ; 
Oh  !  hark  to  the  wildly  harmonious  tone, 
flovr  it  thrills  through  the  marrow  and  thtills  throu^ 
vbe  bone  ! 

God  be  witb  ye,  comrades  bi'ave, — 
We  shall  meet  beyond  the  grave  ! 

Soon  the  vivid  ligbtning  flashes. 
Soon  the  rolling  thunder  crashes 

From  the  fierce  artillery  ; 
Eyelids  quiver, — loud  are  heard 
Feai-ful  soiinds, — the  signal  word 

Through  each  rank  runs  rapidly. 
In  God's  name,  so  let  it  be  ! — 
Ev'17  breast  now  breathes  more  free. 

Death  is  loose,  the  din  grows  louder, — 

Sharper  rings  the  musketry  ; 
Driven  by  the  deadly  powder 

Iron  bullets  fill  the  sky. 

Almost  touching  each  other  the  armies  now  stand, — 
From  platoon  to  platoon  runs  the  word  of  command : 

"  Make  ready  ! "  with  tiiundering  roar  ; 
And  sudden  the  foremobt  on  knee  sinking  low, 
Their  death-laden  wenpons  dischai'ge  on  the  foe, 

But  many,  aias  !  rise  no  more. 
By  the  grapeshot  resistless  whole  ranks  are  o'erthrown  ; 
Bui  a:^  fast  as  the  ranks  in  th(>  front  are  mown  down. 

O'er  their  bcdi*  s  tlie  liimlcr  ranks  pour. 

Pevasfntion  sjwcads  'iroiJiid, 
TVliole  battalions  bite  the  ground. 


^■PtTt^ri 


38  .  THE  BATTLE. 

The  sun  now  sinks  to  rest, — hot  burns  the  fight. 
While  o'er  the  armies  broods  the  murky  eight. 

God  be  with  ye,  comrades  brave, — 
We  shall  meet  beyond  the  grave  ! 

The  life-blood  in  torrents  spurts  high  as  the  head, 

The  living  confusedly  mix  with  the  dead  ; 

The  foot  as  it  moves  stumbles  over  the  slain, 

While  the  conflict  'gins  raging  more  wildly  again. 

''What,  Frank!    And  thou,  too?"— "Kiss  my  Char- 
lotte for  me ! " 

''  Aye,  Friend,  that  I  will !  .  ,  Good  God  !     Comrades, 
see,  see, 
"  How  the  grapeshot  bursts  full  on  our  rear  ! 

"...  I  will  kiss  her  for  thee  !     Now  in  jDeace  slumbeK 
on, 

"  While  I,  left,  alas  !  in  the  world  all-alone, 
*'  Seek  the  fast-falling  balls  without  fear." 


-■o 


Now  hither,  and  now  thither  bends  the  fight, 
Still  murkier  o'er  the  armies  broods  the  night. 

God  be  with  ye,  comrades  brave, — 
We  shall  meet  beyond  the  grave  ! 

What  means  this  sudden  trampling  sound  ? 
The  Adjutants  are  flying  round, 
Dragoons  are  rattling  'gaiust  the  foe, 
TVTiose  thuud'riug  guns  are  lying  low, 
While  they  in  all  directions  fly, — 
Hurrah,  my  Comrades,  Victoiy  ! 
Their  coward  limbs  in  terror  shrink. 
And  down  their  boasting  banners  sink  ! 

Decided  is  the  fearful  fight. 

The  day  gleams  brightly  through  the  night ' 
And  hark,  how  triumphantly  rise  on  the  ear 
the  roll  of  the  dinim  and  the  fife's  note  so  clear  ! 

Farewell,  ye  perisli'd  comrades  brave,-^ 
Oh,  we  shall  meet  beyond  the  grave  I 


89 

ROUSSEAU. 

Mo>rnMaNT  of  our  own  Age's  sbame, 
Oil  thy  Countn' casting  ciidloss  blame, 

lloussfaii's  Grave,  bow  dear  tluju  art  to  me  I 
Calm  rrpose  to  be  to  tbj  aslios  l)l(>8t ! 
In  tby  life  tlion  vainly  souglit'st  for  roHt, 

But  at  lengtb  'twas  bere  dbtained  by  tbee ! 

Wlicn  will  ancient  wounds  be  covered  o'er  ? 
Wise  mem  died  iu  beatlieu  days  of  yore  ; 

Now  'tis  ligbter — yet  tliey  die  again. 
Socrates  Avas  killed  by  Sopbists  ^ale, 
Rousseau  meets  bis  d(>atb  tbrougb  Christians'  wile,- 

Rousscau — who  would  fai.i  make  Cbristiaus  men  ! 


FRIENDSHIP. 

From  the  "Letters  of  JcxnTS  to  Raphael  ;"   at? 
Unpublished  Romance. 

Temperate  is  tbe  Being-Ruler,  Friend  ! — 
On  tbose  Tbiukers  mean  let  sbame  attend 

Wbo  so  anxiously  seek  Laws  to  solve  ! 
LiA-ing- Worlds,  and  Regions  of  tbe  Soul 
On  one  Flywbeel,  tow'rd  tbeir  limit  roll ; 

Ilcrc  my  Ne-niou  saw  tbut  Wbeel  revolve  ! 

Spberes, — tbe  slaves  of  but  onn  vein, — it  tells 
Ronnd  tbe  migbty  world's  bearl,  as  it  swells, 

Labyriutbine  paths  to  cause  to  rise — 
Spii'its  iu  entwining  Systems  laced, 
Tow'rd  tbe  migbty  Spirit-Sun  to  baste. 

As  the  stream  to  join  the  ocean  flies. 

Was't  not  this  Machinery  divine. 
That  oompell'd  our  Bosoms  to  entwine 

In  tbe  blest  and  endless  bonds  of  Lovp  * 
Raphael,  on  thine  Arm — oh,  ecstasy  ! 
Tow'rd  tbat  migbty  Spirit-Sun,  e'en  I 

Oij  Perfection's  path  would  gladly  rove. 


40  PKIENDSHTP. 

Joy,  oh,  Joy  !  Tliou  now  art  found  by  me  I 
I,  of  millions,  have  embraced  but  thee, 

And,  of  millions,  mine  art  thou  alone — 
Let  this  world  iu  Chaos  still  be  lost, 
Atoms  in  confusion  wild  be  tost. 

Into  one  our  Hearts  for  aye  have  flown ! 

Must  not  I,  from  out  thy  flamiupj  g'^ze, 
Of  mi/  Rapture  seek  the  answering  rays  ? 

'Tis  iu  i/iee  alone  myself  I  ^'iew — 
Fairer  still  appears  the  earth  so  fair, 
Brighter  in  the  Loved  One's  features  there 

Heaven  is  mirror'd, — of  more  dazzling  hue„ 

Sweeter  from  the  Passions'  storm  to  rest, 
Melancholy  casts  upon  Love's  breast 

All  the  burden  of  her  tearful  gloom  ; 
Does  not  e'en  tormenting  Rapture  seek, 
Li  thine  eyes  that  eloquently  speak, 

Eagerly  to  find  a  blissful  tomb  ? 

Stood  I  in  creation  all  alone. 

Spirits  I  would  dream  into  each  stone. 

And  their  forms  with  kisses  then  would  greet. 
When  my  wailings  echoed  far  and  wide, 
Would  be  happy  if  the  rocks  replied. 

Fool,  enough  !  to  sympathy  so  sweet. 

Lifeless  gi-oups  are  we,  if  hate  we  prove, 
Gods — if  we  embrace  in  kindly  love  ! 

While  we  languish  for  the  Fetters  blest — 
Upwards  through  the  thousand-varying  scale 
Of  unnumber'd  Souls  that  nought  avail. 

Docs  this  godlike  impulse  raise  the  breast. 

Arm  in  arm,  tow'rd  some  still  higher  sphere, 
From  the  Mongol  to  the  Grecian  seer. 

Who  is  with  the  last  of  seraphs  bound, 
Roam  we  on,  in  dancing  orbit  bright. 
Till  iu  yonder  Sea  of  endless  light 

Time  and  Measure  evermore  are  di"owu'4 ! 


GROUP  FHOM  TARTARUS. 


41 


Fripiulloss  wns  tlin  Miglity  Lord  of  Earth, 
l'\  4t  a   ]Vau( — ko  gave  tho  Spirit  birth, 

Mirror  blest  where  His  own  glories  shine  ! — 
Ne'er  his  Like  has  fmiiid  tlmt  Being  high, — 
Nought  o\t  gushes — save  Infinity — 

From  the  Spirit-Eegiou's  Cup  Divine  1 


GROUP  FROM    TARTARUS. 

Hark  !  Like  the  sea  in  wrath  tho  Heav'ns  assailing, 
Or  like  a  brook  through  rocky  basin  wailing. 
Comes  from  below  in  groaning  agony, 
A  heavy,  vacant,  torment-breathirg  sigh  ! 

Their  faces  marks  of  bitter  torture  wear, 
While  from  their  lips  burst  curses  of  despair  ; 
Their  eyes  are  lioUow,  and  full  of  W'oe, 

And  their  looks  with  heartfelt  anguish 
Seek  Cocytus'  stream  that  runs  wailing  below, 
For  the  bridge  o'er  its  waters  they  languish. 

And  they  say  to  each  other  in  accents  of  fear, 
"Oh,  when  will  the  time  of  Fulfilment  appear?  " 
High  over  them  boundless  Eternity  quivers. 
And  the  scythe  of  Saturnua  ail-ruthlessly  shivers  1 


ELYSIUM. 

Those  groans  of  deep  anguish  no  longer  resound, 
Each  accent  of  sorr<jw,  each  sigh,  is  now  drown'd 

In  Elysium's  banquets  so  bright ; 
In  bliss  never-ending,  in  rapturous  song, 
As  when  through  the  meadows  a  brook  sings  along, 

Elysium's  days  take  their  ilight. 

A  May-day  enduring,  a  ne'er  changing  spring 
All  g'utly  its  youthful  and  balm-laden  wing 

Wave  8  over  the  sweet  smiling  plain  ; 
.In  visions  ecstatic  the  days  fleet  apace. 
The  Spirit  expands  through  the  wide  realms  of  space, 

And  Truth  renda  tha  Cov'ring  in  twain. 


42  THE  FtTGITIVE. 

'Tia  here  that  the  bosom  is  swelling  alone, 
"With  rapture  eternal  and  free  from  alloy  ; 

The  same  of  affliction  is  here  e'er  unknown, 

And  sorrow  means  nought  but  a  more  tranquil  joy. 

The  pilgrim  beneath  these  cool  shades  lays  to  rest 
His  feverish  limbs  by  long  wand'ring  opprest, 

His  burden  behind  him  for  ever  he  leaves  ; 
The  sickle  escapes  from  the  hand  of  the  reaper, 
And,  lulled  by  the  harp's  strains  seraphic,  the  sleeper 

Beholds  in  his  vision  the  harvest's  ripe  sheaves. 

He  whose  banner  war's  fierce  thunder  w^oke. 
On  whose  ears  the  din  of  slaughter  broke, 

'Neath  whose  foot  the  mountain  quak'd  in  fear, 
Slumbers  calmly  by  the  streamlet's  side. 
While  its  silvery  waters  onward  glide. 

And  forgets  his  wildly-clanging  spear. 

Here  all  faithful  lovers  meet  again, 
Kiss  each  other  on  the  verdant  plain. 

Scented  by  the  balmy  zephyr's  breath  ; 
Love  here  finds  once  more  his  crown  of  gold, 
'Gins  his  endless  marriage  feast  to  hold. 

Safe  for  ever  from  the  stroke  of  Death  ! 


THE  FUGITIVE. 

The  air  is  perfum'd  with  the  morning's  fresh  breeze. 
From  the  bush  peer  the  sunbeams   all    purple    and 
bright. 
While  they  gleam  through  the  clefts  of  the  dark-waving 
trees. 
And  the  cloud-crested  mountains  are  golden  with  light. 

With  joyful,  melodious,  ravishing  strain, 
The  lark,  as  he  wakens,  salutes  the  glad  sun. 

Who  glows  in  the  arms  of  Aurora  again. 
And  blissfully  smiling,  his  race  'gins  to  run, 


THE  FOQITIVE.  43 

■     AUbnil,  liglitof  day! 

Thy  sweet  gushing  ray 
Pours  down  its  soft  wariutli  over  pasture  and  field  ; 

Witli  hues  silvcr-tiiigcd 

The  Meadows  are  fringed, 
And  numberless  suns  in  the  dewdrop  reveal'd. 

Young  Nature  invades 

The  whispering  shades, 
Displaying  each  ravishing  charm  ; 

The  soft  zepliyr  blows, 

And  kisses  the  rose, 
The  plain  is  sweet-scented  with  balm. 

How  higli  from  yon  city  the  smoke-clouds  ascend! 
Their  neighing,  and  snorting,  and  bellowing  blend. 

The  horses  and  cattle  ; 
The  chariot-wheels  rattle 
As  down  to  the  valley  they  take  their  mad  way; 

And  even  the  forest  with  life  seems  to  move, 
The  eagle,  and  falcon,  and  hawk  soar  above. 
And  flutter  their  pinions  in  lleaven's  bright  ray. 

In  search  of  repose 

From  my  heart-rending  woes. 

Oh,  wliere  shall  my  sad  spirit  lleo  ? 
The  earth's  smiling  face. 
With  its  sweet  youthful  grace, 

A  tomb  must,  alas,  be  for  m(! ! 

Arise,  tlien,  thou  sunlight  of  morning,  and  iling 
O'er  plain  and  o'er  forest  tliy  purple-dyed  beiuns  I 

Thou  twilight  of  evening,  all  noiselessly  sing 
In  melody  soft  to  the  world  as  it  dreams  ! 

ah,  sunlight  of  morning,  to  me  thou  but  flingest 
Tliy  ]>urple-dyed  beams  o'er  tlie  grave  of  the  past  I 

Ah,  twilight  of  evening,  thy  strains  thou  but  siugest 
To  one  whose  deep  slumbers  for  ever  must  last  I 


u 

THE   FLOWERS. 

Tk  offspring  of  the  morning  snn, 

Ye  fio-wers  that  deck  the  smiling  plain, 
Your  lives,  in  joy  and  bliss  begun, 

In  Nature's  love  unchanged  remain. 
"Witii  hues  of  bright  and  godlike  splendor 
Sweet  Flora  graced  j'our  forms  bo  tender, 

And  clothed  ye  in  a  garb  of  light ; 
Spring's  lovely  children,  weep  for  ever. 
For  living  Souls  she  gave  ye  never. 

And  ye  must  dwell  in  endless  night ! 

The  nightingale  and  the  lark  stni  sing 

In  your  tranced  ears  the  bliss  of  love  ; 
The  toying  sylphs,  on  airy  wing. 

Around  your  fragrant  bosoms  rove. 
Of  yore,  Dione's  daughter*  twining 
In  garlands  sweet  your  cap  so  shining, 

A  pillow  form'd  v^^here  love  might  rest ! 
Spring's  gentle  children  mourn  for  ever, 
The  joys  of  love  she  gave  you  never, 

Ne'er  let  ye  know  that  feeling  blest ! 

But  when  ye're  gather'd  by  my  hand, 

A  token  of  my  love  to  be, 
Now  that  her  mother's  harsh  command 

From  Nanny's!  sight  has  banished  me,-- 
E'en  from  that  passing  touch  ye  borrow 
Those  heralds  mute  of  pleasing  sorrow, 

Life,  language,  hearts  and  souls  divine  ; 
And  to  your  silent  leaves  'tis  given, 
By  liim  who  mightiest  is  in  Heaven, 

His  glorious  Godhead  to  enshrine. 


*  Venus. 
t  Originally    l.avra.   fin's   Imviiig   bocn  cnc  nf  tlio  "  Lnurn-Poi^ni'-," 
as  tilt;  (.(iMiianB  call  llieni,  of  wlii-  li  8o  i-uiiiy  i  rix'ii'.l  in  I'le  Ar.(ti()lo;;y 
/eei;  jjrr/acc) .    English  leadero  wiIi  probuulr  not  tl.iiik  tmit  llio  cliauge 
^8for  Ibu  better. 


45 

ODE   TO  SPRING. 

Thou'et  welcomo,  lovely  Btripling  I 
Tluni  Nature's  tVmcl  delight ! 

With  thy  basket  filled  with  flowers, 
Thou'Vt  •welcome  to  my  sight  ! 

Huzza  !  once  more  we  greet  thee  ! 

How  fair  and  sweet  thou  art  ! 
To  usher  in  thy  presence 

We  baste  with  joyful  heart  I 

Remenfbers't  thou  my  !Maiden  7 
Thou  never  canst  forget ! 

My  Maiden  lov'd  mo  dearly, — 
My  Maiden  loves  me  yet ! 

For  my  JMaiden  many  a  fiow'ret 
I  begg'd  of  yore  from  thee — 

Once  more  I  make  entreaty, 
And  thou  ? — thou  giv'st  them  me ! 

Thou'rt  welcome,  lovely  stripling  ! 

Thou  Nature's  fond  delight  ! 
With  thy  basket  fill'd  with  llowerB, 
Thou  rt  welcome  to  my  sight ! 


TO   MINNA. 

kyi  I  dreaming  ?     Is  mine  eye 

Dimm'd  by  some  deceiving  ray? 
Is't  my  Minna  passing  bj , 

Turning  her  cold  look  away  ? 
She,  who  vain  of  each  fair  charm, 

T^'ans  herself  so  haxightily, 
Leajiing  on  seme  fo|)liug's  arm, — 

Is't  my  !Minua  ? — 'Tis  not  she  1 


46  TO   MINNA. 

On  her  liglit  hat,  feathers  proud. 

Once  my  gift,  are  waving  yet ; 
While  her  breast-knots  cry  aloud, 

Saj-iug  :  "  Miuna,  ne'er  forget !" 
Flowers  still  grace  her  breast,  her  brow 

Foster'd  by  my  loving  care  ; 
Ah,  that  breast  is  faithless  now, — 

Yet  those  flowers  still  blossom  there  ' 

Go  !     Ador'd  by  empty  wits. 

Go  ?    Without  a  thought  of  me 
Prey  to  venal  hypocrites — 

Scorn  is  all  I  feel  for  thee  ! 
Go  !  for  thee  once  throbb'd  a  heai't 

Fill'd  with  stainless  purity. 
Great  enough  to  bear  the  smart 

That  it  throbb'd  for  such  as  thee  ! 

*Tis  by  beauty  thou'rt  betray'd — 

By  thy  features,  shameless  one  ! 
But  their  roses  soon  will  fade. 

Soon  their  transient  charms  be  gone  ! 
Swallows  that  in  sijring-time  play. 

Fly  when  north  winds  cold  retxirn ; 
Age  will  scare  thy  wooers  gay 

Yet  a  friend  thou  now  canst  spur  a  ! 

Ah  !  methinks  I  hear  thee  sigh, 

Wreck  of  what  thou  once  hast  heea, 
Looking  back  with  streaming  eye 

To  thy  May-day's  flowery  scene. 
They  who  once  thy  kisses  sought, 

On  the  wings  of  rapture  borne. 
Make  thy  vanish 'd  youth  their  siiort, 

Laugh  thy  winter  sad  to  scorn. 

'Tis  by  beauty  thou'rt  betray'd— 

By  thy  features,  shameless  one  ! 
But  their  roses  soon  will  fade. 

Soon  thy  transient  charms  be  gone  ! 
riow  I  tht  n  will  scoff  and  jeer  ! — 

Scoff?     Great  Heavens  !  oh,  pardon  me  J 
S  will  weep  full  many  a  t^^ar — 

I'ears  of  anguish  weep  for  thee  1 


i1 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  LOVE 

A   HTJIN. 

By  Love  are  blest  the  Gcnls  on  high, 
Fi-ail  man  becomes  a  Deity 

"NVlieu  Love  to  him  is  given  ; 
'Tis  Love  that  makes  the  Heavens  shine 
With  hnes  more  radiant,  more  divine, 

And  turns  dull  Earth  to  Heaven  1 

In  Pyrrha's  rear  (so  poets  sang 

In  ages  past  and  gone), 
The  world  from  rocky  fragment  sprang— 

Mankind  from  lifeless  stone. 

Their  soul  was  but  a  thing  of  night. 
Like  stone  and  rock  their  heart  ; 

The  flaming  torch  of  Heav'n  so  bright 
Its  glow  could  ne'er  impart. 

Young  Loves,  all  g;ently  hov'ring  round. 
Their  souls  as  yet  had  never  bound 

In  soft  an<l  rosy  chains  ; 
No  feeling  INIuse  had  sought  to  raise 
Their  botioms  with  ennobling  lays. 

Or  sweet,  hannonious  strains. 

Around  each  other  lovingly 

No  garlands  then  entwin'd  ; 
The  sorrowing  Springs  fled  tow'rd  tlie  sky, 

And  left  the  Earth  behind. 

From  out  the  sea  Aurora  rose 

With  none  to  hail  her  then  ; 
Tlie  sun  unhail'd,  at  daylight's  close, 

In  ocean  sank  again. 

In  forests  wild,  mrm  wont  astray, 
Misled  by  Luna's  cloudy  ra  )\ — 
He  bore  £  u  iroii  yol^  ; 


48  THE  TEITOIPH  OF  liOT^. 

He  pin'd  not  for  the  stars  on  high. 
With  yearning  for  a  Deity- 
No  tears  in  torrents  broke. 


But  see  !  from  out  the  deep-bhie  Ocean 
Fair  Yenus  springs  with  geatle  motion  ; 
The  graceful  Naiad's  smiling  band 
Conveys  her  to  the  gladden'd  strand. 

A  May-like,  youthful,  Magic  power 
Entwines,  like  morning's  twilight  hour, 
Around  that  form  of  godlike  birth, 
The  charms  of  air,  sea,  heaven,  and  earthc 

* 

The  day's  sweet  eye  begins  to  bloom 
Across  the  forest's  midnight  gloom  ; 
Narcissuses,  their  balm  distilling, 
The  path  her  footstep  treads  are  filling 

A  song  of  I  ove  sweet  Philomel 
Soon  caroil'd  through  the  grove ; 

The  streamlet,  as  it  murmuring  fell, 
Discours'd  of  nought  but  Love. 

Pygmalion  !     Happy  one  !     Behold ! 

Life's  glow  pervades  thy  marble  cold  ! 
Oh,  Love,  thou  conqueror  all-divine. 
Embrace  each  happy  child  of  thine  1 


By  Love  are  blest  the  Gods  on  high,— 
Frail  man  becomes  a  Deity 

"When  Love  to  him  is  given  ; 
'Tis  Love  tliat  makes  the  Heavens  shine 
With  hues  more  radiant,  more  divine, 

And  turns  dull  Earth  to  Heaven  ! 


tirA  Tiiicirpn  op  love.  li) 

Tho  Gods  tlicir  ilnys  for  over  spend 
In  banquets  bright  that  liave  no  end, — 
In  one  v.)hi])tu()ns  moniing-th-enin, 
And  quair  the  Nectar's  golden  stream. 

Enthron'd  in  aAvful  IMajesty, 

Kroniou  wields  tlio  bolt  on  high; 
In  abject  fear  Olympus  rocks 
When  •wrathfully  he  shakes  his  locks. 

Tt  other  Godf;  he  leaves  his  throne, 
And  fills,  disguis'd  as  Earth's  frail  son, 

The  grcve  wdth  mournful  numbers ; 
The  thunders  rest  beneath  liis  feet, 
And  lull'd  by  Leda's  kisses  sweet. 

The  Giant-Slayer  slumbers. 

Tlirough  the  boundless  realms  of  light 
Phoebus'  golden  reins,  so  bright, 

Guide  his  horses  white  as  snow, 

While  his  tliirts  lay  Nations  low. 
But  when  Love  and  Harmony 
Fill  his  bn^iist,  how  willingly 

Ceases  Phcebus  then  to  heed 

llattling  dart  and  snow-white  steed  1 

See  !    Before  Kronion's  spouse 
Every  great  Immortal  bows  ; 
Proudly  soar  the  peacock  pair 
As  her  chariot  throne  they  bear, 
Wniilo  she  decks  with  crowTi  of  migbt 
Her  ambrosial  tresses  bright. 

Beauteous  Princess,  ah  !  with  fear 

Quakes,  before  thy  splendor.  Love, 
Seeking,  as  he  ventures  near, 

With  liis  power  thy  bi'east  to  move  ! 
Boon  from  her  immortal  throne 

Heaven's  great  Queen  must  fain  descend, 
And  in  prayer  for  Beauty's  zone, 

To  the  Hoart-Enchainer  bend  ! 


50  THE   TEItTM^a  Of  iiOVE. 

By  Love  are  blest  tlie  Gods  on  Mgh, 
Frail  man  becomes  a  Deity 

When  Love  to  him  is  given  ; 
'Tis  Love  that  makes  the  Hravsns  shine 
With  hurs  more  radiant,  more  divine, 

And  turns  dull  Earth  to  Bteaven  ! 


'Tis  Love  ilhtmes  the  realms  of  Night, 
For  Orcus  dark  obeys  his  might, 
And  bows  before  his  magic  spell  : 
All-kindly  looks  the  King  of  Hell 
At  Ceres'  daughter's  smile  so  bright, — 
Yes — Love  illumes  the  realms  of  Night ' 

In  Hell  were  heard,  with  heavenly  sound. 
Holding  in  chains  its  warder  bound, 

Thy  lays,  O  Thracian  one  ! 
A  gentler  doom  dread  Minos  pass'd, 
While  down  his  cheeks  the  tears  cours'd  fast 
And  e'en  around  MegiBra's  face 
The  serpents  twin'd  in  fond  embrace, 

The  lashes'  work  seem'd  done. 
Driven  by  Orpheus'  lyre  away, 
The  Vulture  left  his  Giant-prey  ;* 
With  gentler  motion  roll'd  along 

Dark  Lethe  and  Cocytus'  River, 
Bnraptur'd,  Thracian,  by  thy  song,— 

And  Love  its  burden  was  for  ever  1 


By  Love  are  blest  the  Gods  on  high, 
Frail  man  becomes  a  Deity 

Wlien  Love  to  him  is  given  ; 
'Tis  Love  that  makers  the  Heavens  shine 
With  hues  more  radiant,  more  divine. 

And  tm-QS  dull  Earth  to  Heaven  ! 


•  TityuB. 


TBE  TBimrPH   OP   liOTE. 

Wlierover  Nature's  sway  extonds, 
The  fraptrant  balm  of  L<jve  dosceuJa, 

His  f^oldi'U  pinions  quiver  ; 
If  'twere  not  Venus'  eje  that  prlonms 
Upon  me  in  the  moon's  soft  beams, 

In  Bu-.i-Ht  hill  or  river, — 
If  'twere  not  Venua  smiles  on  me 
From  yonder  bright  and  starry  sea, 
Not  stars,  not  sun,  not  moonbeams  sweet 
Could  make  my  heart  with  rapture  beat. 
'Tis  Love  alone  that  smilingly 
Peers  forth  from  Nature's  blissful  eye, 

As  from  a  mirror  ever  ! 


Love  bids  tlie  silv'ry  streamlet  roll 
More  gently  as  it  sighs  along, 

And  breathes  a  living,  feeling  Soul 
In  Philomel's  sweet  plaintive  song  ; 

'Tis  Love  alone  that  fills  the  air 
With  strains  from  Nature's  lute  so  fait. 

Tliou  Wisdom  vriih  the  glance  of  lire, 
Thou  mighty  Goddess,  now  retire. 

Love's  power  thou  now  must  feel ! 
To  victor  proud,  to  monarch  high, 
Thou  ne'er  hast  knelt  in  slaveiT, — 

To  Love  thou  now  must  kneel ! 
Wlio  taught  thee  boldly  how  to  climb 
The  steep,  but  stariy  path  sublime, 

And  reach  the  seats  Immortjil  ? 


Wlio  rent  the  mystic  Veil  in  twain. 
And  showed  thee  the  Elysian  plain 

Beyond  Death's  gloomy  portal  ? 
If  Love  had  beckon'd  not  from  high 
Had  we  gaiu'd  Immortality  ? 
If  Love  had  not  inllam'd  each  thought, 
Had  we  the  Master  Spirit  sought? 
'Tis  Love  that  guides  the  Soul  alont. 
To  Nature's  Father's  heavenly  throne  1 


52  FOETTIN-E  AXD  WISDOM, 

By  Love  are  blest  the  Gods  on  liigh, 
Frail  man  becomes  a  Deity 

WHieu  Love  to  liim  is  given ; 
'Tis  Love  that  makes  the  Heavens  shine 
With  hues  more  radiant,  more  divine, 

And  tnrns  dull  Earth  to  Heaven:  1 


FORTUNE  AND  WISDOM. 

Enraged  against  a  quondam  friend, 

To  Wisdom  once  proud  Fortune  said  : 
"*  I'll  give  thee  treasures  "without  end, 
' '  If  thou  wilt  be  my  friend  instead. 

"  My  choicest  gifts  to  him  I  gave, 
*'  And  ever  blest  him  with  my  smile  ; 

"-And  yet  he  ceases  not  to  crave, 
"And  calls  me  niggard  all  the  while. 

"  Come,  Sister,  let  us  friendship  vow  ! 

'*  So  take  the  money,  nothi^ig  loih  ; 
"  Why  always  labor  at  the  plough  ? 

"  Here  is  enough,  I'm  sure,  for  both  ! 

Sage  Wisdom  laugli'd, — the  prudent  elf  ! — 
And  wip'd  her  brow,  with  moisture  hot : 

"  There  runs  thy  friend  to  hang  himself, — 
"  Be  reconcil'd — I  need  thee  not !  " 


TO  A  MORALIST. 

Wnr  teach  that  Love  is  nought  but  Trifling  vain  ?— 
AVliy  cavil  at  our  youthful  joyous  play  ? 

Thou  art  benumb'd  in  Winter's  icy  chain. 
And  yet  canst  view  with  scorn  the  golden  May  ! 

Wlien  erst  thou  didst  assail  the  Nymph's  bright  charms, 

A  Hero  of  the  Carnival, — didst  trip 
In  G(>iTaan  Waltz, — held'st  Heaven  within  tliine  arms, 

And  from  the  lips  of  Maidens  balm  didst  sip, — 


iibUlU  JJBEIUIAIU),  THE  GUOANKlt  Or"  ^V^BTEMBEBO.      5li 

£{n,  F5'^l  idon  !  if  t'lcn  EirMi'M  pomrrons  ball 
IL'.J  from  its  axis  ,slii)pM  Avitii  mighty  groan, 

Thine  ears  WDuld  not  liavo  heard  tlie  ht-avy  fall, 
In  Lc  vo-liuot  twiiiM  with  Julia  into  on*;  ! 

Cb,  look  back  now  upon  thy  rosy  days  ! 

Learu  that  Philoscpliy  degenerates, 
E'en  as  the  pulse  with  feebler  motion  plays  ; 

Thy  luiowledge,  man  Immortal  ne'er  createe. 

'Tis  well  w^hen,  through  tin  ice  cf  Senso  refin'd, 
The  fervent  blood  more  fiercely  can  expand  I 

Wluit  ne'er  can  be  aceomplish'd  by  mankind, 
Lieavo  to  the  inmates  <ji  a  better  Lund  ! 

Ajad  yet  in  prison  w^alls  the  Guide  of  Earth 
Confines  the  Si)ul  whose  life  in  Heaven  begr-u  ; 

He  will  1  ot  l(^t  me  rise  to  Angel-worth, — 
I  fain  would  follow  him,  to  be  a  Man  I 


COUNT    EBERHARD,     THE    GROANER    OF 
V/URTEMBERG. 

A  WAR  SONG, 

Now  hearken,  ye  who  take  delight 

In  boasting  of  your  worth  ! 
To  many  a  man,  to  many  a  knight, 
Belov'd  in  peace  and  brave  in  figlit, 

The  Swabian  land  gives  birth. 

Of  Charles  and  Edward,  Louis,  Guy, 

And  Frederii'k,  ye  may  boast ; 
Charl(>s,  Edward,  Louis,  Frederick,  Guy,— 
None  with  Hir  Eberhard  can  vie, — 

Himself  a  mighty  host  ! 

And  then  young  TJlerick,  his  son, 

Ha  !  how  he  loved  the  fray  ! 
Xoung  Ulerick,  the  Count's  bold  so^ 


hi     COtJNT  EBEEHARD,  TBJE  GROANER  OF  -WURTEMBHKa. 

When  once  the  battle  had  begun, 
No  foot's-breadth  e'er  gave  way. 

The  Eeiitliugers,  with  gnashing  teeth; 

Saw  our  bright  ranks  reveal'd ; 
And,  panting  tor  the  victor's  wreath, 
They  drew  the  sword  from  out  the  sheath. 

And  sought  the  battle-field. 

He  charged  the  foe, — but  fruitlessly, — 

Then,  mail-clad,  homeward  sped ; 
Stern  anger  fill'd  his  father's  eye. 
And  TTiade  the  youthful  warrior  Hy, 
And  tears  of  anguish  shed. 

Now,  rascals,  quake  ! — This  grieved  him  sore^ 

And  rankled  in  his  brain  ; 
And  by  his  father's  beard  he  swore, 
With  many  a  craven  townsman's  gore 

To  wash  out  this  foul  stain. 

Ere  long  the  feud  raged  fierce  and  loud, — 

Then  hasten'd  steed  and  man 
To  Doffiugen  in  thronging  crowd, 
While  joy  inspir'd  the  youngster  proud, — 

And  soon  the  strife  began. 

Our  army's  signal- word  that  day 

Was  the  disastrous  fight ; 
It  spurr'd  us  on  like  lightning's  ray, 
And  plunged  us  dc^ep  in  bloody  fray. 

And  in  the  spears'  black  night. 

Tlie  youthful  Count  his  pond'rous  mace 

With  lion's  rage  swung  r(uind  ; 
Destruction  stalk'd  before  his  face. 
While  groans  and  bowlings  fiU'd  the  place. 
And  hundreds  bit  the  ground. 

'/7oe  !  Woo  !     A  heavy  sabre-stroke 

Upon  his  neck  descended  ; 
The  sight  each  warrior's  jjity  woke — 
In  vaiii  1     In  vain  !     No  word  ho  spoke — ■ 

His  course  on  earth  was  ended„ 


OOTJN'T  EBERHAPD,  TH13  GROANEH  OF  WX'RTEMBERO.      56 

Loml  wcjjt  both  fri -iid  ami  focman  then, 

ClieckVl  was  the  victor's  glow  ; 
Tlie  Count  choor'tl  tluis  his  Knights  again— 
•'  My  Sou  is  like  all  other  men, — 

"  March,  chikhvn,  'gainst  tho  Foe  !  " 

With  greater  fury  whizzVI  each  lance. 

Revenge  iuliani'd  the  Mood  ; 
O'er  corpses  mov'd  the  fearful  dance — 
Tho  townsmen  11- tl  in  I'andoni  chance 

O'er  mountain,  vale  and  Hood. 

Tlioii  back  to  camp,  with  trimipets'  bray. 

Wo  hied  in  joyful  haste  ; 
And  wife  and  child,  with  roundelay, 
Witli  clanging  cup,  and  waltzes  gay. 

Our  glorious  triumph  graced. 

And  our  old  Count, — what  now  does  lie  o 

His  sou  lies  dead  befoi'o  him; 
Within  his  tent  all  woefully 
He  sits  alone  in  agony, 

And  drops  one  hot  tear  o'er  him. 

And  so,  with  true  affection  warm, 

The  Count  our  Lonl  we  love  ; 
Himself  a  mighty  hero-swarm — 
The  thunders  rest  within  his  arm — 

He  shines  like  star  above  I 

Farewell,  then,  ye  who  take  delight 

In  boasting  of  your  worth  ! 
To  many  a  man,  to  many  a  knight, 
Belov'd  in  peace,  and  brave  in  hghb. 

The  Swabian  laud  gives  birth  1 


56 

BEMELE: 

IN   TWO   SCENES. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS 

Juno. 

Semele,  J'i'incess  of  Thebes, 
Jupiter. 
Meecuey. 
ScEiTE — The  Palace  of  Cadmus  at  Thebes. 


SCENE    I. 


Jtjno.     {Descending  from  her  chariot,  enveloj)ed  if 
a  cloud.)     Away,  ye  JPeacocks,  with  Biy  winged  car  ! 
<Jpon  Citliseron's  cloud-capp'd  summit  wait  ! 

[  The  chariot  and  cloud  vanish 
Hail,  hail,  thou  House  of  my  undying  anger  ! 
A  fearful  hail  to  thee,  thou  hostile  roof, 
Ye  hated  walls  ! — This,  this,  then,  is  the  place 
Wliere  Jupiter  pollutes  h-^s  marriage  bed 
Even  before  the  face  of  mcxleat  day  ! 
'Tis  here,  then,  that  a  woman,  a  frail  mortal, 
A  dust-created  being,  dares  to  lure 
The  mighty  Thunderer  from  out  mine  arms, 
And  hold  him  i^risoner  against  her  lips  ! 

Juno  !  Juuo  !  thought  of  madness  ! 
Thou  all  lonely  and  in  sadness, 

Standest  now  on  Heaven's  bright  throne  ? 
Tliough  the  votive  smoke  ascondeth. 
Though  each  knee  in  homage  bendeth, 

What  are  they  wheu  Love  has  liowu  ? 


SEMELE,  67 

To  humblo,  alas,  eacli  too-haughty  emotion 
That  Bwell'J  my  jjroiid  breast,   from  the  foam  of  the 
occau 

Fair  Venus  arose,  to  enchant  Gods  and  men  ! 
And  the  Fates  my  Btill-dfcper  abasement  decreeing, 
Her  oflspriug  Ilermione  brought  into  being, 

And  tli6  bliss  once  mine  own  can  ne'er  glad  me  again  I 

Amongst  the  Gods  do  I  not  reign  the  Queen  1 

Am  I  not  Sister  of  the  Thunderer  ? 

Am  I  not  Avife  of  Zeus  the  Lord  of  All  ? 

Groans  not  the  mighty  axis  of  the  Heav'ns 

At  my  command  '?     Gleams  not  Olympus'  crown 

Upon  my  head  ?     Ha  !  now  I  fend  myself ! 

In  my  immortal  veins  is  Krouos'  blood, 

Eight  royallj'-  now  swells  my  god-like  heart. 

Keveugo  !  revenge ! 

Shall  she  uni)unisli'd  ridicule  my  might? 

UupunibhM,  discord  roll  amongst  the  Gods, 

Inviting  Eris  to  invade  the  courts. 

The  joj-ous  courts  of  Heuv'n  ?    Viiin,   thoughtless   one' 

Perish,  and  learn  upon  the  Stygian  stream 

The  diflference  'twixt  divine  and  earthly  dust  ! 

Tliy  giant-ai-mor,  may  it  weigh  thee  down, — 

Thy  passion  for  a  Gud  to  atoms  crush  thee  i 

Armed  with  revcngo,  as  wi-h  a  coat  of  mail, 

I  have  descended  from  Olympus'  heights. 

Devising  sweet,  ensnaring,  flatt'ring  words  ; 

But  in  thooe  words,  death  and  destruction  lurk. 

Hark  !  'tis  her  footstep  !  she  approaches  now, — 

Approaches  ruin  and  a  certain  death  ! 

Veil  thyself.  Goddess,  in  a  mortal  form  !  [Exit 

Semele.     {Callinrj  beliind  the  sceneft.) 
The  sun  is  fast  declining  !     Maidens,  haste. 
Scatter  ambrosial  fragrance  through  the  hall, 
Strew  roses  and  narcissus-liowers  around, 
Forgetting  not  tho  gold  embroider'd  pillow. 
He  comes  not  yet — the  sun  is  fast  declinnig — 

Juno.     {Hastily  entcrincf   in   the  form    of  an    old 
woman.) 
Prais'd  be  tho  Deities,  my  dearest  daughter  ■ 

Semei.e.     Ha  !     Do  I  di-cam  ?    Am  I  awake  ?     Gods ' 
Buro^  ' 


38  BEMELE.  ' 

Juno    Is't  possible  that  Semele  can  e'er 
Porget  lier  nurse  ? 

Semele.  'Tis  Beroe  !     By  Zens  ! 

Oil,  let  thy  daughter  clasp  thee  to  her  heart ! 
Thou  livest  still  ?     What  can  have  brought  thee  here 
From  Epidaurus  ?     Tell  me  all  thy  tale  ! 
Thou'rt  still  my  mother  as  of  old  ? 

t/  UNO.  Thy  mother ! 

Time  was,  thou  oall'dst  me  so. 

Semele.  Thou  art  so  still, 

And  wilt  remain  so,  till  I  drink  full  deep 
Of  Lethe's  madd'ning  draught. 

Juno.  Soon  Beroe 

Will  drink  oblivion  from  the  waves  of  Lethe  ; 
But  Cadmus'  daughter  ne'er  will  taste  that  draught. 

Semele.     How,  my  good  nurse  ?     Thy  language  ne'er 
was  wont 
To  be  mysterious  or  of  hidden  meaning  ; 
The  spirit  of  gray  hairs  'tis  speaks  in  thee  ; 
Thou  say'st  I  ne'er  shall  tast3  of  Lethe's  draught? 

Juno.     I  said  so,  Yes  !     But  wherefore  ridicule. 
Grey  hairs  ?     'Tis  true  that  they,  unlike  fair  tresses, 
Have  ne'er  been  able  to  ensnare  a  God  ! 

Semele.     Pardon  poor  thoughtless  me  !    What  caws*^ 
have  I 
To  rklicule  gray  hairs  ?     Can  I  suppose 
That  mine  for  ever  fair  will  grace  my  neck  ? 
But  what  was  that  I  heard  thee  muttering 
Between  thy  teeth  ?— A  God  ? 

Juno.  Said  I,  a  God  1 

The  Deities,  in  truth,  dwell  everywhere  ! 
'Tis  good  for  Earth's  frail  children  to  implore  them. 

The  Gods  are  found  where  thoa  art Semele  ! 

What  would'st  thou  ask  ! 

Semele.  Malicious  heart  !     But  say 

Wliat  briugs  thee  to  this  spot  from  Epidaurus  1 
'Tis  not  because  the  Gods  delight  to  dwell 
Near  Semele  •. 

Juno.  By  Jupiter,  nought  else  ! — 

Wliat  fire  was  that  which  mounted  to  thy  cheeks 
When  I  pronounced  the  name  of  Juiuter  ? 
Nought  else,  my  daughter  !     Fearfully  the  plague 
At  Epidaurus  rages  ;  ev'ry  blast 


ia  deadly  poison,  cv'ry  breath  (lostro>.< ; 

The  son  his  mother  burns,  his  liritle  the  bridegroom 

The  funeral  piles  riar  uj)  tlicir  Ihiminp:  heads, 

Convertinpj  oven  miihiijj;ht  to  l)riglit  day, 

Wliile  hoAvls  of  anguish  ceaseless  rend  the  air; 

Full  to  o'erf lowing  is  tlio  cup  of  woe  ! — 

In  anger,  Zt^us  looks  down  on  our  poor  nation  ; 

In  vain  the  vietini's  bl(K)d  is  shed,  in  vain 

Before  the  altar  bows  the  priest  his  knee  ; 

Deaf  is  his  car  to  all  our  supplications — 

Therefore,  my  soriow-strieken  country  now 

Has  sent  me  here  to  Cadmus'  r(>gal  daughter 

In  hopes  that  I  may  move  her  to  avert 

His  anger  from  us — "  Beroe,  tjie  nurse, 

"  Has  influence,"  thus  they  said,  "  with  Semele, 

"  And  Bemele  Avitli  Zeus  " 1  know  no  more, 

And  understand  still  less  what  means  iho  saying, 
That  Semele  such  influence  has  with  Zeus. 

Semele.     {F.afierly  and  t/ir,iff/h(lrs:vfi/.) 
The  plague  shall  cc'.se  to-morrow  !     Tell  them  so 
Zeus  loves  mo  !     Say  so  !     It  si i all  cease  to-day  ! 

Juno.     {Stnriinff  iip  in  cifttoni.i-'hment.) 
Ha  1     Is  it  true  Avhat  Fame  with  thousand  tongues 
Has  spnnul  abroad  froni  Ida  to  Brount  Hremus? 
Zeus  loves  thee  !     Zeus  snlntes  thee  in  the  glory 
Wherein  the  denizens  of  Heav'n  regard  liim. 
When  in  Saturnia's  arms  he  sinks  to  rest  ? — 
Let,  O  ye  Gods,  my  gray  hairs  now  descend 
To  Orcus'  shades,  iox  I  have  lived  enough  I 
In  god-like  splendor  Kronos'  mighty  Son 
Comes  down  to  her, — to  her,  who  on  this  breast 
Once  suclded — yes  !  to  her 

Semele.  Oh,  Beroe  1 

In  youthful  form  he  came,  in  lovelier  guise 
Than  they  who  from  Aurora's  lap  arise  ; 
Fairer  than  Hesper,  breathing  inecnse  dim — 
In  floods  of  aether  steep'd  ippeared  each  limb  ; 
He  mov'd  with  graceful  and  majestic  motion, 
Like  silv'ry  billows  heaving  o'er  the  ocean, 
Or  as  Hyperion,  whoso  bright  shoulders  ever 
His  bow  and  arroMs  bear,  and  clanging  quiver; 
His  robe  of  light  behind  him  gracefully 
Danced  in  the  breeze,  his  voice  breath'd  melody. 
Like  crystal  streams  with  silv'ry  murmur  falling, 


59 


60  SEMELE. 

More  raviphing  tJian  Oii^lievis'  strains  enthralling. 

Juno.     My  daughter  ! — Inspiration  spurs  thee  on 
Raising  thy  heart  to  flights  of  Helicon  ! 
If  thus  in  strains  of  Delphic  ecstasy 
Ascends  the  short-liv'd  blissful  memoiy 
Of  his  bright  charms, — Oh,  how  divine  must  be 
His  owTi  sweet  voice, — his  look  how  heavenly  I 
But  why  of  that  great  attribute 
Kronion  joys  in  most,  be  mute, — 
The  majesty  that  hurls  the  thunder, 
And  tears  the  fleeting  clouds  asunder  ? 
Wilt  thou  say  nought  of  that  alone  ! 
Prometheus  and  Deucalion 
May  lend  the  fairest  charms  cf  love, 
But  none  can  wield  tlie  bolt  save  Jove  I 
The  thunderbolt  it  is  alone 
Which  ha  before  thy  feet  laid  down 
That  proves  thy  right  to  Beauty's  crown. 

Semele.     WTiat  say'st  thou  ?     What  are  thunderbolts 
to  me? 

JvTNO.  {Smiling.)       Ah,    Semele  !      A  jest   becomes 
thee  well  ! 

Semele.     Deucalion   lias  no  offspring  so  divine 
As  is  my  Zeus — of  thunder  naught  I  know. 

Juno.     Mere  envy !     Fie  ! 

Semele.  No,  Beroe  !     By  Zeus  I 

Juno.     Thou  swear'st  ? 

Semele.  By  Zetis  !     By  mine  own  Zeus  ! 

Juno.  {Shrieking. )  Thou  swear'st  ? 

Unhappy  one  ! 

Semele.  [^la  alarm.)     Wliat  mean'st  thou?     Beroe! 

Juno.     Repeat  the  word  tliat  dooms  thee  to  become 
The  wretchedest  of  all  on  Earth's  wide  face  ! — 
Alas,  lost  creature  !     'Twas  not  Zeus  ! 

Semele.  Not  Zeus? 

Oh,  fearful  thought ! 

Juno.  A  cunning  traitcn*  'twas 

From  Attica,  who,  'neath  a  god-like  form, 
Robb'd  thee  of  honor,  shame,  and  innocence  ! — • 

[Bkmele  sinks  to  the  ground, 
Well  may'st  thou  fall !     No'er  maj^'st  thou  rise  again  I 
May  endless  night  enshroud  thine  eyes  in  darkness, 
May  endless  silence  round  thine  ears  encamp  1 
Remain  for  ever  iiere  a  lifeless  mass  ( 


SE3TELE.  61 

0^1,  mfnmy  !     Enonprh  to  Inirl  cliasto  day 

Bade  into  "lloonte's  gU)o:i:y  n:  ms  once  more  I 

Yo  Gotla  !     And  is  it  tbus  tl.'at  Bcroc 

Finro  Ciidmus'  diin.£?liti'r,  after  sixteen  years 

Of  bitter  separation  !    Full  of  joy 

I  came  from  Epidaurus  ;  but  -with  shame 

To  Epidiiiinis mnat  retrace  my  sf cpa. — 

Deppair  I  take  with  me.     A';'.a,  my  people  I 

E'en  to  the  seroud  Delupje  ii-  w  tlio  plagno 

M.'\y  rage  at  will,  may  pile  Moaut  Oeta  high 

With.  cor|>ses  uiion  coqises,  and  may  turn 

.ill  Greece  into  one  mighty  charm  1-house, 

Ere  Scmele  cau  bend  the  angry  Gods. 

I,  thou,  and  Greece,  and  all,  have  been  betray'd  / 

SEMEiiE.  {Tremhlinrj  as  she  riies,  and  extending  an 
arm  towards  her.)     01 1,  Beroe! 

Juxo.  Take  courage,  my  dear  heart  I 

Perchance  'tis  Zeus  !  altho'  it  scarce  can  be  1 
Perchance  'tis  really  Zt'ua  i     This  we  must  learn 
He  must  disclose  himself  to  thee,  or  thou 
Must  fly  his  sight  for  ever,  and  dcvot'^ 
The -monster  to  the  death-revoncre  of  Thebes. 
Look  up,  dear  daught'r — look  wpon  the  face 
Of  thine  own  Benjii,  who  looks  on  thee 
With  sympathizing  eyes — my  Semele, 
Were  it  not  weii  to  try  him? 

Sesiele.  No,  by  Heaven : 

I  should  not  find  him  then 

Juno.  A^Tiat !     Wilt  thou  be 

Perchance  less  wi-etched,  if  thou  pinest  on 
In  mournful  doubt  ? — and  if  'tis  really  he, — 

SESiEiiE.     {Hiding  her  face  in  Juno's    lap.)     Ah! 
'tis  not  he  ! 

JtJxo.  And  if  ho  came  to  thee 

Array'd  in  all  the  majesty  wherein 
Olympus  sees  him  ?     Semele  !     Wiat  then  ? 
Wouldst  thou  rc-peut  theo  then  of  liavmg  tri'  d  him  ? 

Semele.      {Sjiringing    up.)      Hal    be  it   so!      He 
must  unveil  himself! 

Juno.     {Ilastihj.)    Thou  muft  not  let  him  sink  into 
thnie  arms 
Till  ho  unveils  himself — so  hearken,  child. 
To  what  tJiy  faithful  nurse  now  counsels  thee,- 
To  what  affection  whispers  in  mine  ear. 


52  SSIyfEl;E, 

And  will  ficconiplisli  ! — Say  !  -will  lie  sonn  come  ? 

Semele.     Before  Hyperion  sinks  in  Thetis'  bed. 
He  promis'd  to  appear. 

Juno,  (ForgetHnff  herself,  kastib/.)    Is't  so,  indeed  • 
He  ijromis'd  ?     Ha  !     To-day  ?      {liecovcring  herself," 

Let  l;im  appruach. 
And  "when  lie  would  aitenpt,  inlinm'd  xnth.  love, 
To  clnsp  his  arms  around  tbeej  then  do  thou, — 
Observe  me  -well, — as  if  by  lightnirig  struck, 
Start  back  in  haste.     Ha  !  picture  his  surprise  I 
Leave  him  not  long  in  wonderment,  my  child ; 
Continue  to  repulse  him  v.ith  a  look 
As  cold  PS  ice — more  wildly,  with  more  ardor 
He'll  press  thee  then — the  coyness  of  the  fair 
Is  but  a  dam,  that  for  awhile  keeps  back 
The  torrent,  only  to  increase  the  flood 
With  greater  Airy.     Tlien  begin  to  weep  : 
'Gainst  giants  he  might  stand, — look  calmly  on 
"Wlien  TyiJheus,  hundred-arm'd,  in  fury  hurl'd 
Mount  Ossa  and  01;vTnpus  'gainst  his  throne  : 
But  Zeus  is  soon  subdued  by  beauiy's  tears. 
Thou  smilest? — Be  it  so  !     Is,  then,  the  schc?<ir 
Wiser,  perchance,  than  she  who  teachcsher  V— ^ 
Then  thou  must  pray  the  God  one  little,  little 
Most  innocent  r<~ quest  to  grnnt  to  thee — 
One  that  may  seal  his  love  and  Godhead  too. 
He'll  swear  by  Styx.     Tlie  Stj-x  he  must  obey ! 
That  oath  he  dares  not  break  !     Then  speak  these  words: 
"Thou  shalt  not  touch  this  body,  till  tliou  com'st 
"  To  Cadmus'  daughter  cloth 'd  in  nil  the  might 
"Wherein  thou  art  embrac'd  by  Ivronos'  daughter  !" 
Be  not  thou  terrified,  my  Semele, 
If  he,  in  order  to  escape  thy  wish. 
As  bugbears  paints  the  horrors  of  his  presence — 
Describes  the  flames  that  round  about  him  roar, 
The  thunder  roiuid  liim  rolhng  wlion  he  comes: 
These,  Semele,  are  nought  but  (>mpty  fears — 
The  Gods  dislike  to  show  to  us  frail  nKU-tals 
These  tlie  most  glorious  oi  tlunr  attributes  ; 
Be  thou  but  obstinate  in  tliy  request, 
And  Juno's  self  will  gaze  on  thee  with  envy. 

Sejiele.     Tlie  friglitful  ox-eyed  one  !      How  often  he 
Complains,  in  the  blest  moments  of  our  love, 
Of  her  tormenting  him  with  her  black  gall- 


SEStELE.  63 

Jttjto.     (Aside,  fiirious^ij,  but  with  emi'n-rassmcnt.) 
Ha  I  creature  !  Thou  sbalt  die  for  this  coutempt  ! 

Semklh.      My  Beroe !     What  art  thou  munnuriug 
thor<^  ? 

Juno,     {/a  confusion.) 
Notliing,  my  Seraele  !     Black  gall  torments 
Me  also — Yos  !  a  sharp,  reproacliful  look 
"V.'itli  lovers  often  jiassi «  r,s  black  gall — 
i'et  ox-eyes,  after  a;  I,  are  not  so  ii.cjiy. 

SEiLELR.      Oh,   Beroii,  for  shame,   they're  quite  the 
worst 
That  any  head  can  possibly  contain  ! 
And  then  her  cheeks  of  green  and  yellow  hues, 
The  obvious  penalty  of  poisonous  euvy — 
Zeus  oft  complains  to  ma  that  that  same  slirew 
Each  ni^lit  torments  liira  with  her  nauseous  love, 
And  with  her  jealous  whims, — enough,  I'm  sure. 
Into  Ixion's  wheel  to  turn  all  Heaven. 

Juxo.    {Raving  tip  and  down  in  extreme  confusion^j 
No  more  of  this  ! 

Semele.  Wliat,  Beroe  !     So  angry  ? 

Have  I  suid  more  than  what  is  true  ?     Said  more 
Than  what  is  wise  ? 

Ji'xo,  Thou  hast  said  more,  young  woman. 

Than  what  is  true — said  more  than  what  is  wise  ! 
Deem  thyself  tiu'.y  blest,  if  thy  blue  eyes 
Smile  theo  not  into  Charon's  bark  too  soon! 
Saturn ia  has  her  altars  and  her  temples, 
And  w;;nders  amongst  mortals — that  great  Goddess 
Avenges  naught  so  bitterly  as  scorn. 

Semele.     Here  let  her  wander,    and    give    birth  to 
scorn ! 
Wliat  is't  to  me  ? — "My  Jupiter  protects 
My  ev'ry  hair, — what  harm  cau  Juno  do? 
But  now  enough  of  this,  my  Beroe !  ' 

Zeus  must  appear  to-day  in  all  his  glory  ; 
Aiid  i^Sduraia  should  on  that  account 
Find  out  the  path  to  Orcus — 

Juxo.     {Aside.)  That  same  path 

Another  probably  will  find  before  her. 
If  but  Krou'iou's  lightning  hits  the  mark ! — 

{To  Semele.) 
Tea,  Semele,  she  well  may  burst  with  envy 
"When  Cadmus'  daughter,  in  the  sight  of  Greece 


64  SiEMEt,^. 

Ascends  in  triumpli  to  01  jmpiis'  heights ! — 

Semele.     {Smiling  gcntlij.) 
Tliiuk'st  tiiou  they'll  hear  in  Greece  of  Cadmus* 
daughter  ? 

Juno.     From  Sidon  to  Athens  the  trumpet   of  Fama 
Shall  riug  with  no  other  but  Semele's  name  ! 
The  Gods  from  the  Heavens  shall  even  descend, 
A.nd  before  thee  their  knees  in  deep  homage  shall  bend. 
While  mortals  in  silent  submission  abide 
The  will  of  the  Giant-Destroyer's  lov'd  bride  ; 
And  when  distant  years  shall  see 
Thy  last  hour^ 
Semele.      {Sprinrjinr/  up,  and  falling  on  her  neck.') 

Oh  Beroc  ! 
Ju>fo.     Then  a  tablet  white  shall  bear 
Thi«  inscription  graven  there: 
Here  is  Avorshipp'd  Semele  ! 
Who  on  earth  so  fair  as  she  ? 
She  who  from  Olympus'  throne 
Lur'd  the  Thunder-hurler  doTvm  i 
She  who,  with  her  kisses  sweet, 
Laid  lum  prostrate  at  her  feet ! 
And  when    Fame   on  her    thoiteand    wings     bears   it 

around. 
The  echo  from  valley  and  hill  shall  resound. 
Semele.     {Beside  herself.) 

Pythia  !  Apollo  !  Hear  ! 
Wlien,  oh  when  will  he  api^eai? 
Juno.     And  on  smoking  altars  they 

Rites  divine  to  thee  shall  pay — 
Semele.     {Insjiired.) 

I  will  hearken  to  their  jorayer, 
And  will  drive  away  their  care, — 
Quench  with  my  tears  the  lightning  of  great  Jove, 
His  breast  to  pity  with  eutraaty  move  ! 
Juno.     {Aside.)     Poor  thing!    that  wilt  thou   ne'er 
have  power  to  do.     {Meditating.) 
Ere  long  will  molt    .    .     .     .    yet — yet — she   call'd  me 

ugly  !— 
No  I     Pitv  only  when  in  Tartarus  ! 

{To  Semele.) 
Fly  now,  my  love  !     Make  haste  to  leave  this  spot. 
That  Zeus  may  not  observe  thee — Let  him  wait 
Long  for  tliy  coming,  that  ho  with  more  fire 
May  languish  for  thee — 


feEMEIiE.  68 

SEMBiiK.  Berne  !     The  Heavens 

Have  chosen  thee  their  nionthpiece  !     H!ii)i>y  I  ! 
The  Gods  from  Oljnipns  shiill  even  clesceiid, 
And  hefore  me  tlieir  kueea  in  deep  homage  shall  bend, 
While  mortals  in-«ileiit  Buhmission  abide — 
But  hold  ! — 'tia  time  for  me  to  haste  uway  ! 

[J'hlt  hurnedly. 

JiTsro,     {Loolnntj  after  her  vlth  cj-uUation.) 
Weak,  prouii,  and  easily-deluded  woman  ! 
His  tender  looks  sliall  l)e  consuming  Hre — 
His  kiss,  annihilation — his  embrace, 
A  ragiitg  tempest  to  thee  !     Human  frames 
Are  powerless  to  endure  the  dreaded  presence 
Of  Him  "who  wields  the  thunderbolt  on  high  ! 

(  With  raving  ecstacy.^ 
Ha  !  when  her  waxen  mortal  body  melts 
Witliiu  the  arms  of  Him,  the  Fire-distilling, 
As  melts  the  fleecy  snow  btforo  the  heat 
Of  the  bright  sun — and  wheu  the  perjur'd  one. 
In  place  of  his  soft  tender  bride,  embraces 
A  form  of  terror — with  wliat  ecstasy 
Shall  I  gaze  downwards  from  Cithajron's  height. 
Exclaiming,  so  that  in  his  hand  the  bolt 
Shall  quake  :  "For  shame,  Satunuus  !   Fie,  for  shame  1 
"  Wh8,t  need  is  there  for  thee  to  clasp  so  roughly  ?  " 

l^Exit  hastily. 
{A  Symphony.) 

SCENE  II. 

The  Hall  as  before. — Sudden  brightness. 

Zeus  in    the    shape    of   a    Youth. — Mekcusx  in  the 

distance. 

Zeus.     Thou  Son  of  Maia  I 

Merctxry.     {Kneeling,  with    his  head  bowed  rever- 
entially.) 

Zeus  ! 
Zeus.  Up  1  Hasten  !  Turn 

Tliy  pinions'  flight  tow'rd  far  Scomander's  bank! 
A  shepherd  there  is  weeping  o'er  the  grave 
Of  his  lov'd  s'lepherdesa.     No  one  shall  weep 
When  Zeus  ia  loving:  Call  the  dead  to  life  I 


66  MUMOi, 

MERctTET',      (Rising.')     Let    but    thy  liead  a  hod 

almiglity  give, 
And  in  an  instant  I  am  there, — am  back 
In  the  same  instant — 

Zeus.  Stay !    As  I  o'er  Argos 

Was  flying,  from  my  temj)les  curling  rose 
The  sacrificial  smoke  :  it  gave  me  joy 
That  thus  the  people  worship  me — so  fly 
To  Ceres,  to  my  sister, — thus  speaks  Zeus: 
*'  Ten-thousaudfohl  for  fifty  years  to  come 
"  Let  her  reward  the  Argive  husbandmen  !  " — 
]Mkrcitry,     With    trembling    haste    I  execute     thy 

wrath, — 
With  joyous  speed  thy  messages  of  grace, 
Pather  of  All !     Por  to  the  Deities 
'Tis  bliss  to  make  man  happy  ;  to  destroy  him 
Is  anguish  to  the  Gods.     Tliy  will  be  done  ! 
Where  shall  I  jjour  into  Thine  ears  their  thanks, — 
Below  in  dust,  or  at  Thy  throne  on  high  ? 

Zei's.     Here  at  my  throne  on  earth — within  the 

palace, 
Of  Semele !    Away ! 

\_Exit  Mercury, 
Does  she  not  come, 
As  is  her  wont,  Olympus'  mighty  king 
To  clasp  against  her  rapture-swelling  breast  ? 
Why  hastens  not  my  Semele  to  meet  me  ? 
A  vacant,  death-like,  fearful  silence  reigns 
On  ev'ry  side  around  the  lonely  palace, 
So  wont  to  ring  with  Avild  Bacehantic  shouts — 
No  breath  is  stirring — on  Cithferou's  height 
Exulting  Juno  stands.     Will  Semele 
Never  again  make  haste  to  meet  her  Zf^us  ? 

{A  j)ause,  after  tcJiich  he  continues,] 
Ha  !    Can  yon  impious  one  perchance  have  dar'd 
To  set  her  ioot  in  my  love's  sanctuary  ? — 
Safiirnia—  Mount  Cithssron — her  rejoicings  1 
Fearfid  foreboding  ! — Semele — yet  peace; ! — 
Take  courage  ! — I'm  thy  Zeus  !  the  scatter'd  Heav'us 
Shall  learn,  my  Semele,  thnt  I'm  thy  Zeus ! 
Where  is  the  breath  of  air  that  dares  presume 
Roughly  to  blow  on  her  whom  Zeus  calls  Ills  f 
I  scoft'ac  all  lur  malice. — Where  art  thou. 
Oh  Semele  ?    I  long  have  piu'd  to  rest 


SElIELtf  67 

My  voild-torrarntctl  Load  upon  thy  breast, — 

To  l\iil  my  wearied  seiib(  a  to  repose 

From  tho  wild  storm  of  oiirthlyjoys  andwoee,- 

To  droftm  nway  tho  embli'ms  of  my  might, 

My  r^ius,  my  tiUer,  and  my  chariot  bright. 

And  live  for  naught  beyond  tlie  joya  of  love  I 

Oh  heav'nly  in.si)iratiou,  that  can  move 

Even  tlio  Gods  divine !     V\niat  is  tho  blood 

Of  mighty  Uranus — -what  uU  tlie  flood 

Of  Nectar  and  ambrosia — Avhat  tho  throne 

Of  high  OljTnpus — what  the  pow'r  I  own, 

The  golden  scoptre  of  the  starry  skies — 

Wliat  the  Omnipotence  that  never  dies. 

What  Might  eternal,  Immortality — 

What  e'en  a  God,  oh  love,  if  reft  of  thee  ? 

The  shepherd  who,  beside  tho  murmuring  brook. 

Leans  on  Lis  true  love's  breast,  uor  cares  to  look 

Aftei  his  straying  lambs,  in  that  sweet  hour 

Envies  me  not  my  thunderbolt  of  power  ! 

She  coniC'* — she  hastens  nigh  !     Pearl  of  my  works, 

Woman  !-  -the  Artist  who  created  thee 

Shcmld  be  a<''or'd.     'Twas  I — myself  I  worship  i 

Zeiis  worshipr  Zous,  for  Zeus  created  thee. 

Ha  !  who  will  now,  in  all  the  Being- realm, 

Condemn  me  ?     How  unseen,  yes,  how  despised 

Dwindle  away  my  worlds,  my  constellations. 

So  ray-diffusing,  all  my  dancing  systems, 

"Wliat  wise  men  call  tiie  music  of  my  spheres  ! — 

Fo,y  dead  are  all  when  weigh'd  against  a  soul  I 

(S'emele  approaches  icithout  looking  ujx} 
My  pnJ.e  !  my  thi-one  on  earth  !    Oh  Semele  ! 

(Jle  rushes  ioivards  her;  she  seeks  to  fly.) 
ThouflyVt:— Ai-t  mute?— Ha!  Semele!  thou  fly'st? 

SEirEiiE.     {I^epulsing  him.)    Away! 

Zeus.     {Aj'f^r  a  pause  of  astonishment.) 

Is  Jupiter  asleep  ?     Will  Nature 
Bush  to  her  fall  *'    -Can  Semele  speak  thus?- 
What,  not  an  answei  ?    Eagerly  mine  arms 
Tow'rd  thee  are  stretck'd — my  bosom  never  th?-obb'd 
Responsive  to  Agenor's  uanghter — never 
Throbb'd  against  Lrda's  l)reast,--my  bps  ve'ey  biirnad 
For  tho  sweet  kiss  of  prisoned  Pauae, 
As  now — 

SEMEiiE.     Peace,  Traitor  !  Peace  I 


68  SEMEIiE. 

Zeus.    (  Wif7i  dtsj^leasnrc,  hut  tenderly.)  M\  Semele  \ 

Semele.     Out  of  my  sight  ! 

Zeus,     {Looking  at  her  with  Tnajesty.') 

Know,  I  am  Zens ! 

Semele,  Tliou  Zeus  ? 

Tremble,  Salmonexxs,  for  lie  fearfully 
Will  soon  demand  again  tlie  stolen  cliai-ms 
That  thou  hast  robb'd  him  of — thou  art  not  Zeus  ! 

Zeus,     (  With  dignity. ) 
The  mighty  universe  around  me  whirls, 
And  calls  me  so — - 

Semele.  Ha  !     Fearful  blasphemy  ! 

Zeus.     {More  gcnlhj.)    How,  my  divine  one  ? 
Wlierefore  such  a  tone  ? 
What  reptile  dares  to  steal  thine  heart  from  me  ? 

Semele,     Mj  heai-t  was  vow'd  to    Him    whose  ape 
thou  art  ! 
Men  ofttimes  come  beneath  a  godlike  form 
To  snare  a  woman.     Hence !  thoxi  art  not  Zeus  ! 

Zeus,     Thou   doubtest  ?      What!     Can   Semele  still 
doubt 
My  Godhead? 

Semele,     {Mournfully.)  Would  that  thou  "V^ert Zeus! 
No  son 
Of  morrow-nothin.gness  shall  touch  this  mouth ; 
This  heart  is  vow'd  to  Zeus  !     Would  thou  wert  He  ! 

Zeus.     Thou  weepest  ?     Zeus  is  here — weeps  Semele? 

^Falling  down  before  her. 
Speak  !     But  command  !  and  then  shall  slavish  Nature 
Lie  trembling  at  the  feet  of  Cadmus'  daughter  ! 
Command  !  and  streams  shall  instantly  make  halt — 
And  Helicon,  and  Caucasus,  and  Cynthus, 
And  Athos,  Mycale,  and  Rliodope,  and  Piudus, 
Shall  burst  their  bonds  when  I  order  it  so, 
And  kiss  the  valleys  and  plains  below. 
And  dance  in  tlie  breeze  like  Hakes  of  snow. 
Command !    and    the   Winds    from  the  East   and    tho 

North, 
And  the  fierce  Tornado  shall  sally  fortli, 
While  Poseidon's  trident  thtdr  power  shall  own, 
Wlien  tliey  shake  to  its  base  his  watery  throne ; 
The  billows  in  angry  fury  sliall  rise, 
And  every  sea-mark  and  dam  despise  ; 
yije  lightning  sLall  gleam  thro'  the  firmament  black, 


BEMELE.  ^ 

Whilo  the  pnl(>B  o{  Enrth  anil  of  H<mvon  shall  crack; 
Tlio  Oct'iin  tlio  heights  of  ()Iviiipii"5  exphu-c, 
From  tlioiiKiuulfold  jjiws  wilh  wild  (Ifalcniiigroar 
The  thunder  kIijiII  howl,  -while  witli  mud  jubilee 
The  huiTicane  iiirce  siugs  iu  triumpli  to  thee. 
Command — 

8kmkle.     I'm  hut  a  woman,  a  frail  woman  1 
TTmw  can  the  Potter  b  lul  before  his  pot  ? 
How  can  the  Ai'tist  kneel  before  his  statue? 

Zet'S.     I\vgmaliou  bow'd  before  his  masterpiece — 
And  Zeus  now  worships  his  own  Semele  ! 

Semele.     (  Weeping  biftcrlj/.) 
Arise — arise  !     Alas,  for  us  poor  maidens  ! 
Zeus  has  my  heart,  Gods  only  can  I  love. 
The  Gods  deride  me,  Zeus  despises  me  I 

Zeus.     Z^nis  Avho  is  uow  before  thy  feet — 

Semele.  Arise ! 

Zeus  reigns  on  high,  above  the  thunderbolts, 
And,  clasp'd  iu  Juno's  arms,  a  reptde  scorns. 

Zeus.     {JIastily.) 
Ha  !  Semele  and  Juno — which  the  r(,>ptile? 

Sejikle.     How  blest  beyond  all  utterance  would  be 
Cadmus'  daughter — wert  thou  Zeus  !     Alas  ! 
Thou  art  not  Zeus  ! 

Zeos.     {Arises.')    I  am ! 
(7/e  extends  his  hand,  and  a  rainbow  Jills  the  hall; 
music  av.co)nx>anics  its  appearance.) 

Know'st  thou  me  now  ? 

SEJTEiiE.     Strong  is   that  mortal's  arm,    whom  Gods 
protect, — 
Saturuius  loves  thee — ^uone  can  /e'er  love 
But  Deities — ■ 

Zeus.  "Wliat !  art  thou  doubting  still 

Wlxether  my  might  is  lent  mo  by  the  Gods, 
And  not  God-born  ?     The  Gods,  my  Semele, 
In  charity  oft  lend  their  strength  to  man  ; 
Ne'er  do  the  Deities  their  terrors  lend — 
Death  and  destruction  is  the  Godhead's  seal- 
Eearer  of  death  to  thee  were  Zeus  unveil'd  ! 
{lie  extends  his  hand,     lliunder,  fire,   smoke,   and 
carthf/iinhe.     Music  accompanies  the  spell  here 
and  suf/f<rrfiienth/.) 
Semele.  Withdraw,  Avithdraw  thy  hand ! — Oh,  mercy, 
mercy 


70  SEMELE. 

For  the  poor  nation  !    Yes !  thou  art  the  CliilQ. 
Of  great  Satumius — • 

Zeus.  Ha  !  tliou  tliouglitless  one ! 

Shall  Zeus,  to  jjlease  a  woman's  stubborness, 
Bid  planets  -whiii,  and  bid  the  suns  stand  still? 
Zeus  ivill  do  so  ! — Oft  has  a  God's  descendant 
Ripp'd  lip  the  fire-impregnate  womb  of  rocks, 
Ajid  yet  his  might's  confined  to  Tellus'  boiuids ; 

Zeus  only  can  do  this! 

{He  extends  his  hand — the    sun    vanishes,    and  ii 
becomes  suddenly  night.) 

Semele.     {Falling  doivn  before  him. )  Almighty  one  J 
Couldst  thoii  but  love  ! 

\Day  reappears. 

Zeus.  Ha  !  Cadmus'  daughter  asks 

Kronion  if  Kronion  e'er  can  love  ! 
One  word,  and  he  throws  off  Divinity — 
Is  flesh  and  blood,  and  dies,  and  is  belov'd  ! 

Semele.     Would  Zeus  do  thaf^ 

Zeus.  Sjjeak,  Semele  !     What  more? 

Apollo's  self  confesses  that  'tis  bliss 
To  be  a  man  'mongst  men — a  sign  from  thee, 
And  I'm  a  man  ! 

Semele.     {Fallincj  on  7iis  neck.) 
Oh  Jupiter,  the  Epidaurus  women 
Tliy  Semele  a  foolish  maiden  call. 
Because,  though  by  the  Thunderer  belov'd. 
She  can  obtain  naught  from  him— 

Zeus.     {Eagerly. )  They  shall  blush, 

Those  Epidaurus  women  !    Ask  ! — but  ask  ! 
And  by  the  dreaded  Styx — whose  boimdless  might 
Binds  e'en  the  Gods  like  slaves — if  Zeus  deny  thee, 
Then  shall  the  Gods,  e'en  in  that  seK-same  moment, 
Hurl  me  despairing  to  annihilation  ! 

Semele.     {Springing  yp.joyfulli/.) 
By  this  I  know  that  thou'rfc  my  Jupiter  ! 
Thou  swearest — and  the  Siyx  has  heard  thine  oath  I 
Let  me  embrace  thee,  then,  in  the  same  guise 
In  which — 

ZiLus.     {ShrieJdng  with  alarm.) 

Unhappy  one  !     Oh  stay  !  oh  staj  ! 

Semele.     Saturnia — 

Zeus.     {Attempting  to  stop  her  month.) 

B^  thou  dumb ! 


SEjrELE,  71 

Semele.  Embracrs  thee. 

Zeus.     {Pale,  and  turning  awai/.) 
Too  late  !    The  Boinul  cscap'd  !— The  Styx  !— 'Tis  death 
Tliou,  Si'iuek^,  liast  guiu'd ! 

Semele,  Ha  !     Lotos  Zeus  thus  ? 

Zei'h.    All  Heavon  I  would  have  given,  had  I  only 
Lov'd  thee  l:)ut  less  !  {(iaziiirj  at  her  with  cold  hurror.) 
Thou'rt  los^- 

Sesiele.       '  Oh,  Jupiter  i 

Zeus.     {/S'pcalinr/  furioitsliy  to  himself.) 
Ah  !     Now  I  mark  thine  exultation,  Juno  ! 
Aceurscd  jealousy  !     This  rose  must  die  ! 
Too  fair — alas  !  too  sweet  for  Acheron  ! 

Semele.     Methinks  thou'rt  niggard  of  thy  majesty  ! 

Zex's.     Accursed  be  my  majesty,  that  now 
Has  blinded  thee  !    AcciU'sed  be  my  greatness, 
That  must  destroy  thee  !     Curs'd  be  1  mysplf 
For  having  built  my  bliss  on  crumbling  dust ! 

Semele.     These  are  but  cmjity  terrors,  Zeus  !    In 
truth 
I  do  not  dread  thy  threats  ! 

Zeus.  Deluded  child  ! 

Go  !  take  a  last  farewell  for  evermore 
Of  all  thy  friends  belov'd— naught,  naught  has  power 
To  save  thee,  Semele  I     I  am  thy  Zeus  ! 
Yet  til  at  no  more — Go — 

Semele.  Jealous  one  !  the  Styx  ! — 

Think  not  that  thou'lt  be  able  to  escape  me.  \^ExH. 

Zeus.      No  !      Juno  shall  not    triumph. — She   shall 
tremble — 
Aye,  and  by  virtue  of  the  deadly  might 
That  makes  the  earth  and  makes  the  heavens  my  foot- 
stool, 
Upon  the  sharpest  rock  in  Tliracia's  land 
With  adamantine  chains  I'll  bind  her  fast. 
But,  oh,  this  oath — [Jfrrcitr>j  a]yp(  ar.^  in  the  distance. 

What  means  thy  hasty  flight  ? 

Merourt.     I  bring  the  fiery,    wing'd,  and  weeping 
thanks 
Of  those  whom  thou  hast  bless'd — 

Zeus.  Again  destroy  them  ! 

Mercury.     {In  amazement.)    Zeus  ! 

Zeis.  None  shall  now  be  bless'd  ! 

She  dies — 

[Tlie  Curtain  falls  ^ 


72 
HYMN    10  JOY. 

Joy,  thou  Goddess,  fair,  immortalj 

Offspring  of  Elysium, 
Mad  with  rapture,  to  the  portal 

Of  thy  holy  fane  we  come  ! 
Fashion's  laws,  indeed,  may  sevei', 

But  thy  magic  joins  again  ; 
All  mankind  are  brethren  ever 

'Neath  thy  mild  and  gentle  reign. 

cnoKus. 

Welcome,  all  ye  myriad  creatures  ! 

Brethren,  take  the  kiss  of  love  ! 

Yes,  the  starry  realms  above 
Hide  a  father's  smiling  featui-es. 

He,  that  noble  prize  possessing— 

He  that  boasts  a  friend  that's  truGj 
He  whom  Avoman's  love  is  blessing, 

Let  him  join  the  chorus  too ! 
Aye,  and  he  who  but  o7ie  spirit 

On  this  earth  can  call  his  own  ! — 
He  who  no  such  bliss  can  merit, 

Let  him  mourn  his  fate  alone  I 

CHORUS, 

All  who  nature's  tribes  are  swelling 
Homage  pay  to  Sympathy  ; 
For  she  guides  us  up  on  high, 

Where  the  Unknown  has  his  dwelling, 


From  the  breasts  of  kindly  Natura 

All  of  Joy  imbibe  the  dew  ; 
Good  and  bad  alike,  each  creature 

Would  her  roseate  path  pursue, 
'Tis  tlirough  her  tlie  wine-cup  maddengv, 

Love  and  fricmds  to  man  she  gives  I 
Bliss  the  meanest  reptile  gladdens, — 

Near  God's  throne  the  Cherub  lives  '. 

CHORUS. 

Bow  before  him  all  creation  I 
Mortals,  own  the  GoJ  of  love  I 


HYifN  TO  JOY.  73 

Sork  him  liipfli  tlio  stars  above, — 
Yonder  is  his  habitutiou  ! 

Joy,  in  Nature's  wide  dominion, 

Mi^'litirst  cause  of  all  is  fouud  ; 
And  'tis  joy  that  moves  the  pinion. 

When  the  wheel  of  time  goes  round; 
From  the  bud  she  lures  the  flower, — 

Suns  from  out  their  orbs  of  light ; 
■Distant  sj^heres  ob(>y  her  power, 

Far  beyontl  all  mortal  sight. 

CHORUS. 

Ab  through  Heaven's  expanse  so  gloriouSj 
In  their  orbits  suns  roll  on, 
Brethren,  thus  your  proud  race  run, 

Glad  as  warriors  all  \actorious  ! 

Joy  from  Truth's  own  glass  of  lire 

Sweetly  on  the  Searcher  smiles  ; 
Lest  Oft  Virtue's  steps  he  tire, 

Joy  the  tedious  path  beguiles. 
High  on  Faith's  briglit  hill  before  us, 

See  her  baiuier  proudly  wave  ! 
Joy,  too,  swells  the  Angels'  choi'us.  — 

Bursts  the  bondage  of  the  grave  1 

CHOKUS. 

Mortals,  meeldy  wait  for  Heaven  I 

Suffer  on  in  patient  love  ! 

In  the  starry  realms  above, 
Bright  rewiurds  by  God  are  given. 

To  the  Gods  we  ne'er  can  render 

Praise  for  eveiy  good  they  grant  ; 
Let  us,  with  devotion  tender. 

Minister  to  Grief  and  Want. 
Quench'd  bo  hate  and  WTatli  for  evsa 

Pardou'd  be  our  mortal  foe — 
Mrty  our  tears  npbraid  him  never, 

}S9  repentance  bring  him  io^  I 


T4  HYMN  TO  JOT. 

i 
CHORUS. 

8ense  of  -vn'ongs  forget  to  treasure— 

Bretlireu,  live  iu  perfect  love ! 

In  the  starry  realms  above, 
God  will  mete  as  we  may  measure. 

Joy  witliin  the  goblet  flushes, 

For  the  golden  nectar,  wine, 
Ev'ry  fierce  emotion  hushes, — 

Fills  the  breast  with  fire  divine. 
Brethren,  thus  iu  rapture  meeting. 

Send  70  round  the  brimming  cup. 
Yonder  kindly  Spirit  greeting, 

While  the  foam  to  Heaven  mounts  up  I 

CHORUS. 

He  whom  Seraphs  worship  ever, 
"Whom  the  stars  praise  as  they  roll, 
Yes — to  Him  now  drain  the  bowl- 
Mortal  eye  can  see  Him  never ! 

Courage,  ne'er  by  sorrow  broken  ! 

Aid  where  tears  of  virtue  flow ; 
<     Faith  to  keep  each  promise  spoken ! 

Truth  alike  to  friend  and  foe  ! 
'Neath  kings'  frowns  a  manly  spirit  !— 

Brethren,  noble  is  the  prize — 
Honor  diie  to  ev'ry  merit ! 

Death  to  all  the  brood  of  lies  ! 

CHOBUS. 

Draw  the  sacred  circle  closer ! 

By  this  bright  wine  plight  your  troth 

To  be  faithful  to  your  oath  ! 
Swear  it  by  the  Star-Disposer  ! 

Safety  from  the  Tyrant's  power  !* 

Mercy  e'en  to  traitors  base  ! 
Hope  iu  death's  last  solemn  hour  I 

Pardon  when  before  His  face  ! 

^  'i'liis  couclndiug  and  flue  strophe  is  omitted  in  tbe  later  editions 
oi  ScUUler's '  J^oems,' 


tEOS  INVINCIBLE  AKMADA.  75 

Lo,  tlio  dead  shall  rise  to  Heaven  1 

Bnitlireii,  luiil  tlie  l)lest  decree  : 
Ev'ry  sin  shall  bo  forgiven, 

HoU  for  ever  cease  to  be  ! 

CHORUS. 

"Wlien  the  golden  bowl  is  broken, 

Gentle  sleep  within  the  tomb  ! 

Brethren,  may  a  gracious  doom 
By  the  Judge  of  ]Man  be  si)oken  I 


THE  INVINCIBLE  ARMADA. 

She  •jomes,  she  comes — Iberia's  proud  Armada — 

The  waves  beneath  the  heavy  burden  sigh  ; 
Laden  with  bigotry  and  chains,  the  invader, 

Charged  with  a  thousand  thunders  now  draws  nigh  ; 
And  as  she  sweeps  along  in  stately  motion, 
With  trembling  awe  is  filled  the  startled  Ocean. 

Each  sliip  a  floating  citadel, 

Men  call  her  "  The  Invincible  !  " 

Wliy  should  she  boast  that  haughty  name  ? 

The  fear  she  spreads  allows  her  claim, 

"With  silent  and  majestic  step  advancing. 
Affrighted  Neptune  bears  her  on  his  breast ; 

From  ev'ry  port-hole  fierce  destruction  glancing. 
She  comes,  and  lo  !  the  tempest  sinks  to  rest. 

ind  now  at  length  the  prmid  fleet  stands  before  thee. 

Thrice-happy  Island,  Mistress  of  the  Sea  ! 
Mighty  Britannia,  danger  liovers  o'er  thee, 
Those  countless  gallecms  threaten  slavery  ! 
Woe  to  thy  freedom-nurtur'd  nation  ! 
Yon  cloud  is  big  with  desolation  I 

How  came  that  priceless  gem  in  thy  possession. 
Which  raised  tliee  high  above  each  other  State  ? 

Thyself  it  was,  who,  struggling  'goinst  oppression, 
£aru'd  for  thy  sons  that  statute  wise  and  great— 


76  THE  CONFLICT. 

The  "Magna  Chart  a — 'neatli  -wlaose  slielt'ring  -wings 
Moiiarclis  but  subjects  are,  and  subjects  kings ! 
To  rule  the  waves  thy  ships  have  prov'd  their  right. 
Defeating  each  proud  foe  iu  ocean-fight. 
All  this  thou  ow'st, — ye  nations,  blush  to  hear  it  !•— 
To  thy  good  sword  alone,  and  dauntless  spirit  ! 

Bee  where  the  monster  comes — unhappy  one  I 

Alas,  thy  glorious  race  is  well-nigli  run  ! 

Alarm  and  terror  fill  this  earthly  ball, 
riie  hearts  of  all  free  men  are  beating  madly. 
And  ev'ry  virtuous  soul  is  waiting  sadly 

The  hour  when  thy  great  name  is  doom'd  to  fall. 

God  the  Almighty  look'd  down  from  his  throne. 
And  saw  thy  foe's  proud  "Lion-Banner  "  flying. 
And  saw  the  yawning  grave  before  theo  lying,— 

"  What !  "  he  exclaim'd,  "shall  my  lov'd  Albion, 

And  all  hrr  race  of  heroes,  now  so  free, 

Pine  in  the  galling  bonds  of  slavery  ? 

Shall  she,  whose  name  with  dread  all  tyrants  heaXj 

Be  swept  for  ever  from  this  hemisphere  ?" 

"Never,"  He  cried,  "  sliall  Freedom's  Edeu  true, 
That  bulwark  of  all  human  rights,  be  shatter'd  !" — 

God  the  Almighty  blew. 
And  to  the  winds  of  heaven  the  fleet  was  scatter'd  !* 


THE  OONFUOT. 

No  longer  will  T  fight  this  conflict  weary, 
The  giant  fight  that  Duty  bids  me  wage  ; 

Why,  Virtue,  ask  a  sacrifice  so  dreary, 

If  thou  my  bosom's  pangs  canst  not  assuage  ? 

.  I've  sworn  it, — yes  !  I  solemnly  have  sworn  it,— 

Upon  my  passions  to  impose  a  rein  ; 
Behold  thy  garland !— yet,  the'  long  I've  worn  it. 
Take  it  back  now,  and  let  mo  sin  again  ! 

*  These  last  twc  linos  refer  to  the  meda".  s'ruck  hy  Queen  Eli/abcth  to 
comineinoratc  \\\-'.  overthrow  of  the  Anuada,  ou  which  wus  the  in- 
Bcriptiou — AJJlavit  Deus  et  dissipati  sunt. 


RESIGNATION.  Y? 

DissolvM  be  ev'ry  vow  between  ns  sp'^»ken — 
S!ie  loves  me  ! — Wlmt  is  now  thy  crown  to  nie? 

Happy  the  man  who,  wrappM  in  blihs  nubroken, 
His  deep,  deep  full  can  view  so  trauqnilly  ! 

She  sees  the  worm  my  yonthfnl  bloom  assailing, 
She  sees  my  days  iu  sorrow  th  etiu<^  on  ; 

And  my  her.  ie  efl'orts  p;ently  luiiliiifr. 

Awards  the  prize  she  deems  me  to  have  won. 

Fair  sonl !  mistnist  this  virtue  angel-seeming, 

For  on  to  crime  tliy  pity  hnrric-s  me 
In  the  unbounded  realms  where  life  is  beaming, 

Is  there  another  fairer  prize  than  thee? 

Or  than  that  sin  so  dreaded  by  my  spirit? — 

Oh  cruel,  all-relentless  iyranny  ! 
The  only  prize  my  virtue  e'er  can  merit 

Must,  iu  the  moment,  see  that  virtue  die  ! 


RESIGN  A  TION. 

Yes  !  even  I  was  in  Aivadia  born. 

And,  in  mine  infant  ears, 
A  vow  of  llapture  was  by  Nature  sworn  ; 
Yes  !  even  I  was  in  Arcadia  born, 

And  yet  my  short  Spring  gave  me  only — tears ! 

Once  blooms,  and  only  once,  Life's  youthfiil  May ; 

For  one  its  bloom  hath  gone. 
T»ie  Silent  God — O  Brethren,  weep  to-day — 
The  Silent  God  hath  quench'd  my  Torch's  ray, 

And  the  vain  dream  hath  flown. 

Upon  thy  darksome  bi-idge,  Eternity, 

I  stand  e'en  now,  dread  thought  ! 
Take,  then,  th(>se  Joy-Credentials  back  from  me  I 
iJuopen'd  I  return  them  now  to  thee, 

Of  Happiness,  alas,  know  nought  I 


78  BESIGNATION. 

Before  thy  throne  my  mournful  cries  I  vent. 

Thou  Judge,  conceal'd  from  view  ! 
To  yander  Star  a  joyous  Saying  went : 
With  Judgment's  scales  to  rule  up  thou  art  sent, 

And  call'st  thyself  keqxjixek,  too ! 

Here, — say  they, — terrors  on  the  Bad  plight, 
And  joys  to  greet  the  Virtuous  sirring. 

The  bosom's  windings  thou'lt  expose  to  sig}it. 

Riddle  of  Providence  wilt  solve  aright, 
And  reckon  with  the  suffering  ! 

Here  to  the  Exile  be  a  home  outspread. 

Here  end  the  meek  man's  thorny  jDath  of  strife ! 
A  god-like  child,  whose  name  was  Truth,  they  said. 
Known  but  to  few,  from  whom  the  many  fled, 
Bestrain'd  the  ardent  bridle  of  my  Life. 

.     "It  shall  be  thine  another  Life  to  live, — 

Thy  youth  to  me  surrender ! 
To  thee  this  surety  only  can  I  give  " — 
I  took  the  surety  iu  that  Life  to  live  ; 

And  gave  to  her  each  youthful  joy  so  tender. 

"  Give  me  the  woman  precious  to  thy  heart. 

Give  up  to  me  thy  Laui  a  ! 
Beyond  the  grave  will  iisury  pay  the  smart. " — 
I  wept  aloud,  and  from  my  bleeding  heart 

With  resignation  tore  her. 

'The  obligation's  drawn  upon  the  Dead  !" 

Thus  laugh'd  the  World  in  scorn  ; 
' '  The  Lying  One,  iu  league  with  Despots  di'ead, 
For  Truth,  a  Phantom  palm'd  on  thee  instead, 

Thou'lt  be  no  more,    when  once  this   Dream 
has  gone  ! " 

Shamelessly  seoff'd  the  Mockers'  serpent-band  : 
"A  Dream  that  but  Prescription  can  admit 
Dost  dread?  Where  now  thy  God's  protecting  hand, 
(The    sick  world's   Saviours  with    such  cunning 
plann'd), 
Borrow'd  by  Human  need  of  Human  wit  ? 


•^  What  Puture  Is't  that  graves  to  ns  i^eVeal  ? 

WImt  the  EtcTiiily  of  thy  discourse? 
Tlonor'tl  lifoanse  dark  vtils  its  toriii  cjuctal, 
Tho  giant  shadowrf  of  the  awe  we  f (.•.], 

View'd  iu  the  hollow  mirror  of  liemoi-se  ! 

An  Tmage  false  of  shapes  of  living  mould, 
(Time's  vory  mummy,  she !) 
Wliom  only  Hope's  sweet  balm  hath  power  to  liolJ 
Within  the  chambers  of  the  grave  so  cold, — 
Thy  fever  calls  this  Immortality ! 

"  For  empty  hopes, — corniption  gives  the  lie — 

Di'dst  thou  exchange  what  thou   hadst  surtlj; 
done  ? 
Six  thousand  years  sped  Death  in  silence  by, — 
Has  eorijso  from  out  tho  grave  e'er  mounted  high. 
That  mention  made  of  the  Hequitiug  One  ?" —      . 

I  saw  Time  fly  to  reach  thy  distant  shore, 

I  saw  fair  Nature  lie 
A  shrivell'd  corpse  behind  him  evej-more, — 
Ko  dead  from  out  the  grave  then  sought  to  soar 

Yet  in  that  Oath  divine  still  trusted  I. 

My  ev'ry  joy  to  thee  I've  sacrific'd, 

I  throw  me  now  before  thy  Judgment  throne  I 
Tlie  Many's  scorn  with  boldness  I've  despis'd, — 
Only  t/ii'  gifts  by  me  were  ever  priz'd, — 

I  ask  my  wages  now,  Kequiting  One  ! 

•'  With  equal  love  I  love  each  child  of  mine  !" 

A  Genius  liid  from  sight  exclaim'd. 
"Two  flowers,"  he  cried,  "ye  mortals,  mark  the  sign, — 
Two  flowers  to  greet  the  Searcher  Aviso  entwine, — 

Hope  and  enjoyment  they  are  nam'd. 

"  Wlio  of  these  flowers  plucks  one,  let  him  ne'er  ypiim 

To  totieli  the  othc  r  sister's  bloom. 
Let  liim  enjoy,  who  has  no  faith  ;  etenie 
As  earth,  this  truth  ! — Abstain,  who  faith  can  "'.earn  I 

The  World's  long  story  is  the  world's  '^wn  doom. 


8(1  THE   GODS   OF   GKE^Clla. 

"HorE  thou  hast  felt, — tliy  wages,  then,  are  paid  ; 

Thy  Faith   'twas   form'd   the  raptm-e  jjledg'd 
to  thee. 
Thoit  might'st  have  of  the  Wise  inquiry  made,— 
The  minutes  thou  neglectest,  as  the;^  fade. 

Are  given  back  by  no  Eternity  !" 


THE  GODS  OF  GREECE. 

Whilst  the  smiling  Earth  ye  govern'd  still. 

And  with  Eapture's  soft  and  guiding  hand 
Let  the  happy  Nations  at  your  will, 

Beauteous  Beings  from  tlie  Fable-land  ! 
Whilst  your  blissful  worship  smil'd  around. 

Ah  !  how  diff'rent  was  it  in  that  day  ! 
When  the  people  still  thy  temples  crown'd, 

Venus  Alnathusia  1 

Wlien  the  magic  veil  of  Por-ey 

Still  round  Truth  eutwin'd  its  loving  chain- 
Through  creation  pour'd  Life's  fulness  free, 

Things  then  f elf,  which  ne'er  caix  feel  again^ 
Then  to  preps  her  'gainst  the  breast  of  Love, 
'  They  on  Nature  nobler  power  bestow'd, — 
All^  to  eyes  euligliten'd  from  above, 

Of  a  God  the  traces  show'd. 

There,  where  now,  as  we're  by  Sages   to}<3  , 

Whirls  on  high  a  soulless  fiery  ball, 
Helios  guided  then  his  car  of  gold. 

In  his  silent  majesty,  o'er  all. 
Oreads  then  these  heights  around  us  fill'd. 

Then  a  Dryad  dwelt  in  yonder  tree. 
From  the  Urn  of  loving  Naiads  rill'd 

Silver  streamlets  foamingly. 

Yonder  Laurel  once  imploi-ing  wound, 
Tantal's  daughter  slumbers  in  this  stone  ; 

Frtim  yon  rusli  rose  Syrinx'  mournful  souiui^, 
From  this  thicket,  Philomela's  moan. 


fttE  GODS  OP  GREECk.  8! 

foiid'T  brook  Dimeter's  tears  rccciv'd, 

TliJit  sh(!  W'tji  iui  livv  I'i'rs(plione, 
From  this  lull,  of  laer  lovVl  friouJ  bereav'd, 

Ciied  C  J  there,  fniitlessly  I 

To  Deucalion's  race  from  realms  of  air 

Then  the  pveat  Immortals  still  came  clown  ; 
And  tovau(iuiiili  Pyrrlia's  daughter  fair, 

Then  a  shei)herd'3  shAf  took  Leto's  son. 
Then  'tween  Heroes,  Deities,  and  Men, 

Was  a  beauteous  bond  by  Eros  twiu'd, 
And  with  Deiti(>s  and  Heroes  then 

Knelt  in  Cyprus'  Isle,  mankind. 

Gloomy  sternness  and  denial  sad 

Ne'er  were  in  your  service  blest  descried  ; 
Each  heart  throbb'd  thee  with  emotions  glad. 

For  the  Happy  were  with  you  alli(>d. 
Nothing  then  v/as  Holy,  save  the  Fair  ; 

Of  no  raptiu-e  was  the  God  asham'd, 
Wlien  the  modest  Muse  was  blushing  there, 

When  their  sway  the  Graces  claim'd  1 

Palace-like,  then  pmil'd  your  Temples  all. 

Ye  were  li(jnor'd  in  the  lu>ro-sport 
At  the  Isthmus'  crown-clad  festival. 

And  the  goal  the  thuiui'ring^  chariots  sought. 
Beauteous  danc-os  that  a  8i)iiit  breath'd 

Cii'cled  round  your  altiirs  bright  and  fair  ; 
Round  your  brows  the  cro"SMiof  triumijh  wreath 'd, 

Cxarlands  graced  ytjur  fragi-ant  hair. 

Thyrsus-swingers'  loud  Evoe  then, 

And  the  panther-team  that  shone  afar, 
Weleom'd  Him  who  Kapture  brought  to  men  ; 

Fauns  and  Satyrs  re.^'d  before  his  Car  ! 
Round  him  sprang  the  Mienads'  raving  crew. 

While  their  dances  show'd  his  wine's  great  worth, 
And  the  Host's  full  cheeks  of  tawny  hue 

Pointed  to  the  cup  with  mirth. 

In  those  daj-s,  before  the  bed  of  Death 
Stood  no  ghastly  form.     Tiun  took  away 

From  tlie  lips  a  kiss  the  parting  breath, 
And  a  Genius  queuch'd  his  torch's  ray. 


^  THE   CtOT>B   of   GREECfe. 

Even  Orcus'  rigid  judgment-scale? 

By  a  Mortal'?  ".fl'sprin^  once  were  tield. 
And  the  Thi'acian's  spirit-breatliiug  wails 

E'en  the  angry  Euries  qnell'd. 

Once  again  within  Elysium's  grove 

Met  the  happy  Shade  his  joys  so  dear  ; 
Lover  faithful  found  Ma  f  aithfulXove, 

And  his  path  regain'd  the  oJiarioteer  ; 
Linus'  lute  gave  biick  each  wonted  strain, 

Admet  clasp'd  A^costis  to  his  heart, 
And  Oi'estes  found  his  friend  again, 

Philoctetes  found  his  dart. 

Nobler  prizes  then  the  wrestler  crow7i'd, 

Who  the  arduous  path  of  Virtue  press'd; 
Glorious  workers  then  of  deeds  renowu'd 

Olamber'd  up  to  join  the  Spirits  blest.. 
All  the  Band  of  Silent  Gods  the  while 

Bow'd  to  Him  who  summou'd  bacik  the  dead  ; 
From  Olympus'  height  the  twin-stars  smile 

O'er  the  waves  the  Pilot  led. 

Beauteous  World,  where  art  thou  gone  ?  Oh,  thon^ 

Nature's  blooming  youth,  return  once  more  ! 
/ill,  but  in  Song's  fairy  region  now 

Lives  thy  fabled  trace  so  dear  of  yore  ! 
Cold  and  jierish'd,  sorrow  now  tlie  plains, 

Not  one  Godhead  greets  my  longing  sight ; 
Ah,  the  Shadow  only  now  remains 

Of  yon  living  Image  bright ! 

All  those  lovely  blossoms  now  are  gone, 

Scatter'd  by  the  North-wind's  piercing  breath  ; 
To  enrich  amongst  the  whole,  but  one. 

All  this  God-like  world  was  doom'd  to  death. 
Sadly  turn  I  to  the  stars  on  high — 

Tliou,  Selene,  canst  not  there  be  found  ! 
Througli  the  forest,  through  the  waves  I  cry — 

Ah,  they  echo  back  no  sound  ! 

Peeling  not  the  joy  she  bids  me  share, 
Ne'er  entranced  by  her  own  majesty, 

Knowing  her  own  guiding  spirit  ne'er. 
Ne'er  made  happy  by  my  ecstacy, 


THB  ABTISTfi.  83 

Senseless  even  to  lior  IMaker's  praise, 

Like  tlic  ])i'iuliik-c'l<>c'k's  d«ntl,  hollow  tone, 

Nature  Gravitation's  law  ol)ey.s 
Servilely — her  Godhead  flown. 

That  to-m:/rrow  she  herself  may  free, 

She  preparf'8  her  sepulchre  to-day ; 
And  on  spindle  balanced  equally, 

Up  and  down  the  Moons  alternate  play. 
Idly  homeward  to  the  Poet-land 

Go  the  Gods — a  world  they'd  sei-ve  in  vain, 
That's  ujiheld  by  its  own  motive  hand, 

Casting  off  the  guiding-rein. 

Aye  !  they  homeward  go, — and  they  have  flown, 

All  that's  bright  and  fair  they've  taken  too, 
Ev'ry  color,  ev'ry  living  tone, — 

And  a  soulless  world  is  all  we  view. 
Borne  off  by  the  Time-flood's  current  strong, 

They  on  Pindus'  height  have  safety  found  . 
,  All  that  ii-'  to  live  in  endless  song, 

Must  in  Life-time  first  be  drown'd  1 


THE  ARTISTS. 

How  gracefully,  O  Man,  with  thy  ijalm-bough, 
Upon  the  waning  Century  staudest  thou. 

In  proud  and  noble  manhood's  i)rime. 
With  uulock'd  Senses,  with  a  Spirit  freed. 
Of  firmness  mild, — though  silent,  rich  in  deed, 

The  ripest  son  of  Time,' 
Through  meela^ess  great,  through  precepts  strong. 
Through  treasures  rich,  that  time  had  long 

Hid  in  thy  bosom,  and  through  Reason  free — 
Master  of  Nature,  who  thy  fetters  loves, 
And  who  thy  streuf?th  in  thousand  conflicts  proves, 

And  from  the  Desert  soar'd  in  jiride  with  thee  ' 

Flush'd  with  the  glow  of  Yictoiy, 
Never  forgi^t  to  ])rize  the  hand 

That  found  the  weeping  Oi'phan  child 
Deserted  on  Life's  barren  strand, 


a  THE  AKTISTS. 

And  l?ft  a  t)rey  to  hazard  mid,— 
Thai;,  ere  thy  Splrit-houer  saw  the  day, 

Thy  youthful  heart  watch 'd  over  silently, 
And  from  thy  tender  bosom  turn'd  away 

Each   thought  that  might  have   stained   its 
purity ; 
That  kind  One  ne'er  forget  who,  as  in  sport, 

Thy  youth  to  noble  aspiraaoiis  tiain'd, 
And  who  to  thee  in  easy  riddles  taught 

The  secret  how  each  Virtue  might  be  j^aiu'd ; 
Wlio.  to  receive  him  back  more  perfect  still. 

E'en  into  strangers'  arms  her  favorite  gave— - 
Oh,  may'st  thou  never  with  degenerate  will. 

Humble  thyself  to  be  her  abject  slave  ! 

In  Industry,  the  Bee  the  palm  may  bear  ; 

la  Skill,  the  Worm  a  lesson  may  impart ; 
With  Spirits  blest  thy  Knowledge  thou  dost  shijrfo, 

But  thoUj  O  Man,  alone  hast  Art ! 


Only  through  Beauty's  morning  gate 

Didst  thou  the  land  of  linowledge  find. 
To  merit  a  more  glorious  fate, 

In  Graces  trains  itself  the  Mind. 
What  thriU'd  thee  through  with  trembling  blest, 

Wlien  erst  the  Muses  swept  the  chord, 
That  Power  created  in  thy  breast. 

Which  to  the  mighty  Spirit  soar'd. 


What  first  was  seen  by  doting  Reason's  ken, 

When  many  a  thousand  years  had  pass'd  acay, 
A  Symbol  of  the  Fair  and  Great  e'en  then. 

Before  the  childlike  Mind  uncovered  lay. 
Its  blest  form  bade  us  honor  Virtue's  cause — 

The    honest  Sense    'gainst    Vice  put  forth    lia 
powers, 
2efore  a  Solon  had  devis'd  the  Laws 

That  slowly  bring  to  light  their  languid  flowers. 
Before  Eternity's  vast  Scheme 

Was  to  the  Thmker's  mind  reveal'd, 
Was't  not  foreshadow'd  in  his  dream. 

Whose  eyes  explor'd  yon  starry  field  ? 


tOK  ARTISTS.  85 

tJranin — the  majestic  dreaclocl  One, 

Who  wears  a  Glory  of  Orioiis  twin'd 
Axouud  licr  brow,  and  who  is  seen  by  none 

Savo  piuvst,  Spirits,  when  in  splendor  shrin'd, 
She  soars  ahovo  tlie  stais  in  pride, 

AHeendin<<  to  her  sunny  throne, — 
Her  fiery  chajjlet  hiys  aside, 

And  now,  as  Beauty,  stands  alone; 
While,  with  the  Graces'  girdle  round  her  cast. 

She  seems  a  Child,  by  children  understood; 
For  we  shall  recognize  as  truth  at  last, 

Wliat  here  as  beauty  only  wo  have  view'd. 

When  the  Creator  banish 'd  from  his  sight 

Frail  Man  to  dark  Mortality's  abode, 
And  granted  him  a  late  return  to  Light, 

Only  by  treading  Reason's  arduous  road, — 
When  each  Ininiortal  turu'd  his  face  away, 

She,  the  Ct)mpassionate,  alone 
Took  up  her  dwelling  in  that  house  of  clay, 

With  the  deserted,  banish'el  One. 
With  drooping  wing  she  hovers  here 

Around  her  darling,  near  the  Senses'  land, 
And  on  liis  prison  walls  so  drear 

Elysium  paints  with  fond  deceptive  hand. 

While  soft  TTumanity  still  lay  at  rest, 

Within  lier  tender  arms  extended. 
No  flame  was  stii-r'd  by  Bigots'  murderous  zest, 

No  guiltless  blood  on  high  ascended. 
Tlie  heart  tliat  she  in  gentle  fetters  binds. 

Views  Duty's  slavish  escort  scornfully  ; 
Her  path  of  Light,  though  fairer  far  it  winds, 

Sinks  in  the  Sun-track  of  Morality. 
Those  who  in  her  chaste  service  still  remain, 

No    grovelling    thought    can    temi^t,    no    Fatff 
aiiright ; 
The  Spiritual  Life,  so  free  from  stain. 
Freedom's  sweet  birthright,  they  receive  again^ 

Under  the  mystic  sway  of  holy  Might. 

The  purest  among  millions,  happy  they 
Whom  to  her  service  she  has  sanctified. 


§d  f fifi  AEfiSf §. 

"Whose  moutlis  the  Mighty  Oae'a  commands  couVe^j 
Within  whose  breasts  she  deigneth  to  abide  ; 

Whom  she  ordain'd  to  feed  her  holy  fire 

Upon  her  altar's  ever-flaming  pyre, — 

Whose  eyes  alone  her  unveil'd  Graces  meet, 

And  whom  she  gathers  round  in  union  sweet 

In  the  mnch-honor'd  place  be  glad 

Where  noble  Order  bade  ye  climb, 
For  in  the  Si^ii'it- world  sublime, 

Man's  loftiest  rank  ye've  ever  had  ! 


Ere  to  the  world  Proportion  ye  reveal'd, 

That  ev'ry  Being  joyfully  obeys, — 
A  boimdless  structure,  in  Night's  veil  conceal'd, 

nium'd  by  naught  but  faint  and  languid  rays, 
A  band  of  Phantoms,  struggling  ceaselessly, 

Holding  his  mind  in  slavish  fetters  bound, 
Unsociable  and  rude  as  he, 

Assailing  Jiim  on  every  side  around, — 
Thus  seem'd  to  Man  Creation  in  that  day  ! 

United  to  surrounding  forms  alone 

By  the  bliiad  chains  the  Passions  had  put  on, 
Whilst  Nature's  beauteous  Spirit  fled  away, 

Unfelt,  untasted,  and  unknown. 


And,  as  it  hover'd  o'er  with  parting  ray, 
Ye  seiz'd  the  shades  so  neighborly. 

With  silent  hand,  Avith  feeling  mind, 

And  taught  how  they  might  be  combiu'd 
In  one  firm  bond  of  Harmony. 

The  gaze,  light-soaring,  felt  uplifted  then. 

When  first  the  Cedar's  slender  trunk  it  view'd. 
And  pleasingly  the  Ocean's  crystal  flood 

Reflected  back  the  dancing  form  again. 

Could  ye  mistake  the  look,  with  beauty  fraught, 
That  Nature  gave  to  help  ye  on  your  way  ? 

The  Imag(;  floating  on  the  billows  taught 
The  art  the  fleeting  shadow  to  portray. 

From  her  own  Being  t(n'n  apart. 

Her  Phantom,  beauteous  as  a  dream, 
She  plung'd  into  tlie  silv'ry  stream. 

Surrendering  to  her  spoiler's  art. 


THE   ARTISTS. 


87 


Creative  power  s jou  in  your  breast  unfolded ; 

Too  noble  far,  not  idly  to  conceive, 
Tlie  Shadow's  ft>nn  in  sand,  ii  clay  ye  moulded, 

And  mad"!  it  in  t'lo  sketch  its  B'-unr;  leave. 
The  longing  thirst  for  Action  then  awoke,— 
And  from  your  breast  tho  first  Creation  broke. 

By  Contemplation  captive  made, 

Easuar'd  by  your  discerning  eye, 
The  friendly  Phantom's  soon  bctray'd 

Tiio  talisman  that  rous'd  your  jcstasy. 
The  laws  of  v/onder- working  might. 
The  stores  by  Beauty  brought  to  lignt, 
Inventive  Reason  in  soft  union  plaun'd 
To  blend  together  'ncath  yoiu-  forming  hand. 
The  Obelisk,  the  Pyramid  ascended. 

The  Hermes  stood,  the  Column  sprang  on  high, 

The  reed  pour'd  forth  the  woodland  melody. 
Immortal  Song  on  Victor's  deeds  attended. 

The  fairest  flowers  that  deck'd  the  Earth, 

Into  a  nosegay  with  wise  choice  combin'd, — 

Thus  the  first  Art  from  Nature  had  its  birth  ; 
Into  a  garlaud  then  were  nosegays  twiu'd. 

And  from  the  works  that  mortal  hands  had  made, 

A  second,  nobler  Art  was  now  display'd. 

The  Child  of  B-^auty,  self-sufficient  now. 

That  issued  from  your  hands  to  perfect  day 

Loses  the  chaplet  that  adorn'd  its  brow 
Soon  as  Reality  asserts  its  sway. 

The  Columii,  yielding  to  Proportion's  chains, 
Must  with  its  bisters  join  iu  irieudly  link, 
The  Hero  in  the  Hero-band  must  sink. 

The  Muses'  harp  peals  forth  its  tuneful  strains. 

The  wond'riug  savages  soon  came 

To  view  the  new  Creation's  j^lan  : 
"Behold  ! " — the  joyous  crowds  exclaim, — 
"  Behold,  all  this  is  done  by  Man !" 
<Vith  jocund  and  more  social  aim. 
The  minstrel's  lyre  their  awe  awoke, 

Telling  of  Titans,  and  of  Giant's  frays, 
Ind  Lion-slayers,  turning,  as  he  spoke, 

E'eu  into  Heroes  those  who  heard  his  lays* 


88  THE   AETISTS. 

For  the  first  time  the  soul  f  ^els  joy, 

By  raptures  bless'd  that  calmer  are, 

That  only  greet  it  from  af p.r, 
That  passions  wild  can  ne'er  destroy, 
And  that,  when  tasted,  do  not  cloy. 

And  now  the  Spirit,  free  and  fair, 

Awoke  fr(jm  out  its  sensual  sleep  ; 
By  you  unchain'd,  the  Slave  of  Care 

Into  the  arms  of  joy  could  leap. 
Each  brutish  bariier  soon  v/as  set  at  naught, 

Humanity  first  graced  the  cloxidless  brow. 
And  the  majestic,  noble  stranger,  thought. 

From  out  the  wond'ring  brain  sprang  boldly  now, 
Man  in  his  glory  stood  upright, 

And  show'd  the  stars  his  kingly  face  ; 
His  speaking  glance  the  Sun's  bright  light 

Bless'd  in  the  realms  sublime  of  space. 
Upon  the  cheek  now  bloom'd  the  smile, 

The  voice's  soulful  Harmony 
Expanded  into  Song  the  while. 

And  Feeling  swam  in  the  moist  eye  ; 
And  from  the  mouth,  with  Spirit  teaming  o'er, 
Jest,  sweetly  link'd  with  Grace,  began  to  pour. 

Sunk  in  the  instincts  of  the  worm. 

By  naught  but  sensual  Inst  possess'd. 

Ye  recogniz'd  within  his  breast 
Love-Spii'itual's  noble  germ  ; 

And  t)iat  this  germ  of  Love  so  blest 
Escaped  the  senses'  abject  load. 
To  the  first  pastoral  s  )ug  he  ow'd. 
Rais'd  to  the  dignity  of  Thought, 
Passions  more  calm  to  flow  were  taught 

From  the  Biird's  mouth  with  melody. 
The  cheeks  with  dewy  softness  buru'd  ; 
The  longing  that,  though  quench'd,  still  yeam'd, 

Proclaim'd  the  Si)irit-Harmony. 

The  Wisest's  wisdom,  and  the  strongest's  vigor,- . 

The  Meekest's  meekness,  and  the  Noblest's  grace, 
By  you  were  knit  together  in  one  Figure, 

Wreathing  a  radiant  Glory  round  the  place. 


THE   ARTLSTS,  8& 

Man  at  tho  Unkno-wn'a  sight  must  tremble, 

Yt't  its  refiilgfuco  ikhjJs  must  love  ; 
That  mighty  Being  to  resemble, 

Eiich  glorious  Hero  madly  strove  ; 
Tho  prototype  of  Beauty's  earliest  strain 
Ye  made  resound  through  Natiuv's  wide  domain,, 

) 

Tho  Passions'  wild  and  headlong  course, 

Tho  ever-varying  plan  of  Fate, 
Duty  and  Instinct's  twofold  force, 

With  proving  mind  and  guidance  straight 
Ye  then  conducted  to  their  emls. 

What  Nature,  as  she  moves  along. 
Far  from  each  other  ever  rends, 

Become  upon  the  Btag.%  in  song. 
Members  of  Ordc^r,  lirinly  bountL 

Awed  by  the  Furit-s'  chorus  dread, 
Murder  draws  down  uj^ou  its  head 
The  doom  of  Death  from  their  a\  ild  sound. 
Long  ere  the  ■wise  to  give  a  verdict  dar'd. 
An  Iliad  had  Fate's  mysteries  declai-'d 

To  early  Ages  from  afar  ; 
While  Providence  in  silence  far'd 

Into  the  world  from  Thespis'  car. 

Yet  into  that  world's  cuiTcnt  so  sublime 
Y'our  Symmetry  was  borne  before  its  time. 
When  the  dark  hand  of  Destiny 

Fail'd  in  your  sight  to  part  by  force 
What  it  had  fashicm'd  'neath  yoi»;  eye, 
lu  darkness  Lif(>  made  haste  to  die, 

Ere  it  fultiU'd  its  beauteous  course. 
Then  ye  with  bold  and  si'lt'-sufJicieut  might 
Led  the  arch  further  thro'  the  Future's  night  z 
Then,  too,  ye  plung'd,  without  a  fear, 

Into  Avernus'  ocean  black, 
And  found  the  vauish'd  life  so  dear 

Beyond  the  Urn,  and  brought  it  back. 
A  blooming  Pollux-form  appear'd  now  soon. 

On  Castor  leaning,  and  enshrined  in  light-. 
Tlie  shadow  that  is  seen  ujjon  the  moon. 

Ere  she  has  lill'd  h-.r  silv'ry  circle  bright  j 


90  THE  AETISTS. 

Yet  Liglier, — liigher  still  above  tlie  Earth 

Inventive  Geuius  never  ceas'd  to  rise  : 
Creations  from  creations  had  their  birth, 

And  harmonies  from  harmonies. 
What  here  alone  enchants  the  ravish'd  sight, 

A  nobler  Beanty  yonder  must  obey  ; 
The  graceful  charms  that  in  the  Nympli  unite, 

In  the  divine  Athene  melt  away  ; 
The  strength  with  which  the  Wrestler  is  endow'dj, 

In  the  God's  beauty  we  no  longer  find  : 
The  wonder  of  his  time — Jove's  image  proud — 

In  the  Olympian  temple  is  enshrin'd. 


The  world,  transform'd  by  Industry's  bold  hand. 
The  human  heart,  by  newborn  instincts  mov'd. 
That  have  iu  burning  fights  been  fully  prov'd, 

Your  circle  of  Creation  now  expand. 

Advancing  Man  bears  on  bis  soaring  pinions, 
In  gratitude.  Art  with  him  in  his  flight. 

And  out  of  Nature's  now-enrich'd  dominions 
New  worlds  of  beauty  issue  forth  to  light. 

The  barriers  upon  knowledge  are  o'erthrown  ; 
The  Spirit  that,  with  pleasure  soou-matm-'d, 
Has  in  your  easy  triumphs  been  iuur'd 
To  hasten  through  an  Artist-whole  of  gTaces, 
Nature's  more  distant  columns  duly  places. 

And  overtakes  her  on  her  pathway  loue. 

He  weighs  her  now  with  weights  that  human  are. 
Metes  her  with  measures  that  she  lent  of  old  ; 

While  iu  her  beauty's  rites  more  practic'd  far. 
She  now  must  let  his  eye  her  form  behold. 

With  youthful  and  self -pleasing  bliss. 
He  lends  the  si^heres  his  harmony, 

And,  if  he  praise  earth's  edifice, 

'Tis  for  its  wondrous  syrLjnetry.  ^ 

In  all  that  now  around  him  breathes, 

Proportion  sweet  is  ever  rife  ; 
And  beauty's  golden  girdle  wreathes 

With  mildness  round  his  path  through  life ; 
Perfection  blest,  triumphantly. 

Before  him  in  your  works  soars  high  ; 


THR   ARTISTS. 

Whorevor  boisterona  K^ipture  swells, 

Wherever  silent  Borrow  Hoes, 
WlKne  jr-nsivo  Contemplation  dwells, 

Wliere,  he  tlio  tears  of  Aii.^uisli  Bees, 
Wlu-re  thousand  terrors  on  him  glare. 

Harmonious  Btreams  are  yet  behind — 
He  sees  the  Graces  sporting  there, 

With  feelings  rsilent  and  rcfiu'd. 
Gentle  as  Beauty's  lines  togetlu  r  linking, 

As  the  Appearances  that  round  lum  jjlay. 
In  tender  outline  in  each  other  sinking, 

The  soft  breath  of  his  life  thus  fleets  away. 
His  Spirit  melts  in  the  harmonious  Sea, 

That,  rich  in  rapture,  round  his  senses  flows, 
And  the  dissohdng  Thought  all  silently 

To  omnipresent  Cythcrea  grows 
Joining  in  lofty  union  with  the  Fates, 

On  Graces  and  on  Muses  calm  relymg, 
With  freely-offer'd  bosom  he  awaits 

The  shaft  that  soon  against  him  will  be  flying 
From  the  soft  bow  Necessity  creates. 

Fav'rites  belov'd  of  blissfid  Harmony, 

Welcome  attendants  on  Life's  dreary  road. 
The  noblest  and  the  dearest  far  that  she, 

Who  gave  us  Life,  to  bless  that  life  bestow'd  ! 
That  unyok'd  Man  his  duties  bears  in  mind, 
And  loves  the  fetters  that  his  motions  bind. 
That  Chance  with  brazen  sceptre  rules  him  not,— 
For  t/ii-'f,  Eternity  is  now  your  lot. 
Your  heart  has  Avon  a  bright  reward  for  this 

That  round  the  cup  Avhere  Freedom  flows, 
Merrily  sport  the  Gods  of  bliss, — 

The  "beauteous  dream  its  fragrance  throws, — 
For  this,  receive  a  loving  kiss  ! 

The  Spirit,  glorious  and  serene, 

VHxo  round  Necessity  the  Graces  trains, — 
Who  bids  his  sethev  and  his  stany  plains 
Upon  us  wait  with  pleasing  mien,— 
Who,  'mid  his  terrors,  by  his  majesty  gives  ]oy. 
And  Avho  is  beauteous  e'en  wiieu  seeking  to  destroy,- 
Him  imitate,  the  Artist  gooil  !  * 
As  o'er  the  streamlet's  crystal  flood 


M 


§2  THE  AKTISTS. 

The  banks  with  chequcr'd  dances  hover, 

The  flow'ry  mead,  the  sunset's  light, — = 
Thus  gleams,  life's  barren  pathway  overj 

Poesy's  shadowy  world  so  bright. 
In  bridal  dress  ye  led  us  on 
Before  the  terrible  Unknown, 

Before  inexorable  Fate. 
As  in  your  urns  the  bones  are  laid, 
With  beauteous  Magic  veil  ye  shade 

The  chorus  dread  that  cares  create. 
Thousands  of  years  I  hasten 'd  through 

The  boundless  realm  of  vanish'd  time. 
How  sad  it  seems  when  left  by  you— 

But  where  ye  linger,  how  sublime  ! 
She  who,  with  fleeting  wing,  of  yore 

From  your  creating  hand  arose  in  might. 
Within  your  arms  was  found  once  more, 

When,  vanquish'd  by  Time's  silent  flight. 
Life's  blossoms  faded  from  the  cheek, 

And  from  the  limbs  all  vigor  went, 
And  mournfully,  with  footstep  weak. 

Upon  his  staflt  the  greybeard  leant. 
Then  gave  ye  to  the  languishing. 
Life's  waters  from  a  new-born  sjsring  ; 
Twice  was  the  youth  of  Time  renew'd. 
Twice,  from  the  seeds  thai  ye  had  strew'd. 

When  chas'd  by  fierce  barbarian  hordes  away, 

The  last  remaining  votive  brand  ye  tore 
From  Orient's  altars,  now  pollution's  prey. 

And  to  these  Western  lands  in  safety  bore 
The  fugitive  from  ^^onder  Eastern  shore, 

The  youthful  day,  the  West  her  dwelling  made  , 
And  on  Hesperia's  plains  sprang  up  once  more 

Ionia's  flowers,  in  pristine  bloom  array'd. 
Over  the  Spirit  fairer  Nature  slied. 

With  soft  refulgence,  a  reflection  bright. 
And  through  the  graceful  Soul  with  stately  tread 

Advanced  the  Biiglity  D<>ity  of  light. 
Millions  of  (iinins  were  burst  asunder  then, 

And  to  the  Slave  then  human  laws  applied, 
And  mildly  rose  tlie  younger  race  of  men 

As  brethren,  gently  waud'ring  side  by  side, 


'  THE   ARTISTS.  98 

"Witli  noblo  inward  ecHtnsy, 

The  bliss  iniparteil  yo  receive, 
And  in  tlie  veil  of  modesty, 

With  Hilent  merit  take  your  l(>ave. 
If  oil  the  patlis  of  Thoncfht,  so  freely  given. 

The  Searcher  u  )\v  with  daring  fortune  stands, 
And,  by  trininj)hiint  I':eni;s  onwiU'd  driven. 

Would  seize  u])on  the  crown  with  dauntless  hands — 
If  h(^  Avith  grovelling  hireling's  pay 

Thinks  to  disnuss  liis  glorious  guide — 
Or,  with  the  first  slavt-'s  place  aiTay 

Art  near  the  throne  his  dream  supjilied — 
Forgive  him  ! — O'er  yoiu"  head  to-day- 
Hovers  Perfecticjn's  crown  in  7)ride. 
With  you  the  earlii^st  jilant  '  Lad, 

Soul-forming  nature  fii-st 
With  you,  the  hai-vest-chap-tOj  gj I, 

Perfected  Nature  ends  her  plan. 


The  Art  Creative,  that  ail-modestly  arose 

From  clay  and  stone,  with  silent  triumph  throws 

Its  arms  around  the  Spirit's  vast  domain. 
What  in  the  land  of  knowledge  the  Discoverer  knows, 

He  knows,  discovers,  only  for  your  gain  ! 
The  treasiu-es  that  the  Thinker  has  amass'd, 

He  will  enjoy  within  your  arms  alone, 
Soon  as  his  knowledge,  beaiitj-ripe  at  last. 

To  Art  eimobled  shall  have  grown, — 
Soon  as  with  you  he  scales  a  mountain-height, 

And  thc-r(%  illumin'd  by  the  setting  sun, 
Tlie  smiling  valley  bursts  upon  his  sight. 
The  richer  ye  reward  the  eager  gaze — 

The  higher,  fairer  orders, that  the  mind 
May  traverse  with  its  magic  rays. 

Or  compass  with  enjoyment  unconfin'd — 
The  wider  thoughts  and  feelings  open  lie 
To  more  luxuriant  Hoods  of  Harmony, 
To  Beauty's  i-ich«r,  mon;  maj;>stic  stream, — 
The  fair  members  of  the  wt)rid's  vast  scheme, 
That,  maim'd,  disgrace  on  his  Creation  bring, 
He  sees  the  lofty  forms  then  perfecting — 


94  THE  AimsTS. 

The  fairer  riddles  come  from  out  the  night — 
The  richer  is  the  world  his  arms  enclose, 
The  broader  stream  the  sea  with  which  he  flowa-- 

The  weaker,  too,  is  Destiny's  blind  might — 

The  nobler  instincts  does  he  prove — 

The  smaller  he  himself,  the  greater  grows  his  love. 

Thus  is  he  led,  in  still  and  hidden  race. 

By  Poetry,  who  strews  his  path  with  flowers. 
Through  ever-purer  Forms,  and  purer  pow«ra„ 

Tlirough  ever  higher  heights,  and  fairer  grace. 

At  length,  arrived  at  the  ripe  goal  of  Time, — 

Yet  one  more  inspiration  all-sublime. 

Poetic  outbiirsts  of  Man's  lastest  youth. 

And — he  will  glide  into  the  arms  of  Truth  I 

Herself,  the  gentle  Cypria, 

lUumin'd  by  her  fiery  crown, 

Then  stands  before  her  full-grown  Son 
Unveil'd — as  great  Urania  ; 
The  sooner  only  by  him  caught. 

The  faster  he  had  fled  away  ! 
Thus  stood,  in  wonder  rapture  fraught, 

Ulysses'  noble  Son  that  day. 
When  the  sage  Mentor  who  his  yoiith  begiiil'd 
Herself  transfigur'd  as  Jove's  glorious  Child  ! 

Man's  honor  is  confided  to  jnnr  hand, — 

There  let  it  w-ell-protected  be  ! 
It  sinks  with  you  !  with  you  it  will  expand  ! 

Poesy's  sacred  sorcery 
Obeys  a  world-plan  Avise  and  good  ; 
In  silence  let  it  swell  the  flood 

Of  mighty-rolling  Harmony  ! 


By  her  own  time  view'd  with  disdain, 
Lot  solemn  Trutli  in  song  remain, 
And  let  the  Muses'  band  defend  her  ! 
In  all  the  fulness  of  her  splendor. 

Let  her  survive  in  numbers  gloi'ious. 

More  dread,  when  veil'd  her  charms  appeal! 
And  vengeance  take,  with  strains  victorious, 
On  her  tormentor's  ear  1 


tSE  CELEBRATED  WOMAi*.  96 

The  freest  Mother's  Children  free, 

With  stoaiU'ast  couutcimnco  then  rise 
To  liighest  B  aiity's  radiancy, 

And  e\'rj  other  crown  despise  ! 
The  Sisti^rs  wlio  osrap'd  you  here, 

"Within  your  Motlifr's  arras  ye'll  njoet; 
"What  noble  Spirits  may  revere, 

Must  be  deserving  aud  complete. 
High  over  your  own  course  of  time 

Exalt  yourselves  with  pinions  bold, 
And  dimly  let  your  glass  sublime 

The  coming  century  unfold  ! 
On  thousand  roads  advancing  fast 

Of  ever-rich  variety, 
"With  fond  embraces  meet  at  last 

Before  the  throne  of  Harmony  ! 
As  into  seven  mild  rays  Ave  view 

With  softness  break  the  glimmer  whito, 
As  rainbow  beams  of  seven-fold  hue 

Dissolve  again  in  that  soft  light, 
In  clearness  thousandfold  thus  throw 

Your  magic  round  the  ravish'd  gaze, — 
Into  one  stream  of  light  thus  flow, — 

One  bond  of  truth  that  ne'er  decays ! 


THE   CELEBRATED   WOMAN. 

A  liETTER   FROM   ONE   HUSB.VND   TO   ANOTHER. 

3haIjIi  I  lament  thy  lot?  Dost  curse  thy  marriage  vows' 

With  tears  of  grief  and  rage  combin'd? 
And  why?     Because  thy  faithless  Spouse 

Seeks  in  another's  arms  to  find 
What  she  no  more  obtains  from  thee  ? — ' 

Friend,  hearken  to  Another's  cares, 
Aud  bear  thine  own  more  easily  ! 

It  pains  thee  that  a  Second  shares 
Thy  rights  ? — How  truly  enviable  thy  case  I 
]\J)/  wife  belongs  to  the  whole  human  race„ 
E'en  from  the  Belt  to  the  Moselle 
To  Aiipeumuc  s  niyU  >vuxi*  as  well, 


§^  THE  CEXjEBEATEI)  ^oMAif. 

Even  in  fashion's  native  city, 
She  is  exposed  for  sale  in  ev'ry  shoiJ, 

And  may  be  handled  (more's  the  pity  !) 
By  ev'ry  pedant,  ev'ry  silly  fop — 

On  board  the  packet,  on  the  coach's  top, — 
Beneath  the  cockney's  stare  must  patient  be, 

And,  as  each  dirty  critic  may  desire, 

Must  walk  on  flowers  or  coals  of  fire 
To  the  Pantheon  or  the  pillory. 
A  Leipzig  fellow — may  the  rascal  meet  his  dues  ! — 

As  of  a  fortress,  takes  her  topographic  measure, 
And  parts  for  sale  he  offers  to  the  public  view. 

Which  none  but  I  should  know  about,   had  I  my 
pleasure  ! 

Thy  wife, — thanks  to  the  canon  la>v,  'tis  true,- 
The  name  of  consort  holds  ail-duly  i^riz'd ; 

She  knows  its  meaning  and  its  practice  too. 
As  Ninon's  husband  I'm  but  recogniz'd. 

Tliou'rt  grieved  that  at  the  Faro-table,  in  the  Pit, 

When  thou  appear'st,  each  tongue  exerts  its  wit  ? 

Oh,  hapjjy  man  !    How  fortunate  is  he 

Who  can  say  that !     Good  brother,  as  for  me, 

A  whey-cure  purchased  me,  at  length,  the  honor 

At  her  left  side  to  humbly  wait  upon  her. 

Me  no  one  sees,  and  ev'ry  look  is  thrown 

Upon  my  haughty  sjjouse  alone. 

The  veil  of  night  is  scarcely  rent. 
When,  lo  !  the  staircase  swarms  with  blue  and  yellow 

coats. 
With  unpaid  letters,  packages  and  notes. 

To  "  The  Illustrious  Lady"  sent. 

How  sweet  her  sleep  ! — to  wake  her  though's  my  duty : 
"  Madam,  the  last  Berlin  and  Jena  News  ! " 

Sudden  her  eyelids  opes  the  sleeping  Beauty ; 
The  first  thing  that  they  meet  are — the  Reviews 

Her  fair  blue  eye  for  ine  has  not  one  look, 

A  trump'ry  Paper's  all  tliat  it  can  brook. 

Soon  from  the  nursery  comes  a  roaring  cry. 

And,  asking  for  her  little  ones,  she  lays  it  by. 


THE   ceiiEnRATED   WOSLA.X. 


^ 


3er  dressinc?- table  now  is  set, 

But  liiilf-iooks  only  ou  her  glass  slie  fiujgsj 
A  grumbling  and  imp:iti"Dt  threat 

To  her  atlrighted  M.ii  I  gives  wings. 
Ti)e  Graces  all  hav.^  tl  -d  fro:n  her  toilette, 
And  ill  tli(3  place  of  C.ipids  young  and  fair, 
Furies  upou  her  wait  to  dress  her  hair. 

The  sound  of  carriage- whe;ls  has  now  begun, 
And  nimble  lacqueys  f  i"om  behind  dismount, 

To  crave  an  audience  with  the  Famous  Oue  : 
First  for  the  scented  Abbe,  then  the  Count, 

Or  Englishman,  who  Gc'rman  scorns  to  know. 
Grossing  and  Son,  or  Messrs.  So  and  So. 

A  tiling  that  iu  the  corner  msekly  takes  its  place, — 

A  Husband  call'd, — is  star'd  at  in  the  face. 

Here  may  the  dullest  fool,  the  poorest  wight, 
(And  tliis  thij  rival  surely  would  not  do,) 

Express  his  admiration  at  her  sight,  — 
Express  it  in  my  presence,  too  ! 

And  I,  for  fear  of  being  thought  uncivil. 

Must  beg  he'll  sto^j  to  dine — (the  devil !) 

At  table.  Friend,  begins  my  misery. 
Quickly  each  flask's  contents  are  dried ! 

WitU  Burgundy,  that  Doctors  strictly  keep  from  me. 
Her  flatterers'  throats  I  needs  must  keep  sui^plied. 

The  meat  that  I  so  hardly  earn'd  at  first 
Her  hungry  parasites'  lean  paunches  lines  ; 

This  fatal  immortality  accurs'd 

Has  been  the  death  of  all  my  choicest  wines — 
The  plague  take  ev'ry  hand  that  dares  to  print ! 

Wbat,  think'et  thou,  are  my  thanks  ?    A  scornful  hinfc. 

A  gesture  or  a  rude  and  vulgar  sneer. — 

Dost  guess  the  meaning  ?    Oh,  'tis  veiy  clear  ! 

Tliat  any  woman,  who  is  such  a  jewel, 

ShoiUd  be  possesf-'d  by  such  a  clown,  seems  cruel ! 

The  spring-time  pomos.     O'er  meadow  and  o'er  jjlain 
Nature  now  throws  her  cai-pet,  many-hued ; 

The  Howers  are  clothed  in  smiling  green  again — 
Sweet  sings  th^"  lark,  with  life  teems  ev'ry  wood. 


9§  THE   CELEBKATED  WOMAlf.      • 

To  her  no  joy  does  spring  impart, 
The  songstress  of  the  feelings  blest  of  love, 
The  -vntness  of  our  sports — the  beauteous  grove, — 

Appeal  no  longer  to  her  heart. 
The  nightingales  have  never  learn'd  to  read — 

The.  lilies  never  to  admire. 
The  joyoTis  choruses  all  creatures  lead. 

In  her — au  Epigram  inspire  ! 
But  no  ! — The  season's  fine  for  traveling — 

How  very  crowded  Pyrmont  now  must  be  ! 

And  all  in  Carlsbad's  praises,  too,  agree. 

Presto,  she's  there ! — Amongst  that  honor'd  ring, 

Where  lords  and  sages  are  combining, — 
All  lands  of  folk,  in  fact,  of  note. 
Lovingly  pair'd,  as  if  in  Charon's  boat, 

All  at  one  board  together  diuiug ; 
Where,  from  a  distance  thither  lur'd, 
The  bleeding  virtues  of  their  wounds  are  cur'd, 
And  others — for  temptation  praying  are. 
That  they  may  ward  it  off  with  more  eclat. 
There,  Friend, — Oh,  bless  thy  happier  lot  in  life  1 
Leaving  me  seven  young  Orphans, — goes  my  wife. 

Oh,  happy  golden  time  of  love's  young  day  ! 

How  soon, — alas,  how  soon  thou'rt  flown  away  I 

A  Woman,  who  no  equal  has,  or  had — 

A  very  Goddess,  in  her  graces  clad. 

With  radiant  spirit,  with  a  mind  clear-sighted, 

And  feehngs  soft,  to  pity  open  wide, — 
I  saw  her  thus,  while  each  heart  she  delighteclj 

Like  a  fair  May-day  sporting  by  my  side  ; 
Her  beauteous  eyes  appear'd  to  falter 

The  blissful  words  :  I  love  thee  well ! 
And  so  I  led  her  to  the  altar  ; 

My  rapture  then,  oh,  who  could  tell  I 
Of  enviable  years  a  blooming  field 

From  out  this  mirror  sweetly  on  me  smil'd  ; 
A  perfect  heaven  Avas  then  to  me  reveal'd. 

Soon  round  me  sported  many  a  lovely  child  % 
Amongst  them  all,  the  fairest  She  ; 

Tlie  happiest,  She,  amid  the  throng ; 
And  Mine  by  spirit-harmony. 

By  heart-alliance,  lirm  and  strong. 


VEBSES  WRITTEN  IN  THE  AliBlTM  OF  A  TOUNO  LADY      99 

But  now, — Oh,  may  he  be  accurs'cl !— appear'J 

A  Groat  Man,  aye,  a  Shiniiif,'  Si)irit,  too. 

The  Great  M  iu\li<l  a  (ku-il  !— and  overthr<-^w 
The  house  of  c.irds  that  I  tow'rd  lioaven  liad  rear'd. 
What  have  I  now? — Wiiat  sad  exchange  is  tliis  ! — 
Awaken'd  from  my  midd'uing  ckeam  of  bhss, 
What  of  th'is  Angel  now  remains  to  me  ? 

A  spirit  strong  within  a  body  weak, 

Hermaphroditic,  bo  to  speak  ; 
Alike  uniit  for  love  or  mystery — 
A  child,  who  Avith  a  giant's  weapons  rages, 
A  cross  between  Ijaboons  and  sages  ! 
One  that  has  Hed  the  fairer  race, 
To  gain  amorig  the  stronger  a  vain  place, 

Hurl'd  headloag  from  a  throne  eternal. 
Flying  the  mysteries  by  Charm  controli'd — 
Eras'd  from  Cytherea's  B  );)k  of  Gold,* 

To  gain  a  corner — in  a  Journal. 


VERSES    WRITTEN    IN     THE  ALBUM  OF  A 
YOUNG  LADY. 

Sweet  friend,  the  world,  like  some  fair  infant  blest, 

Radiant  with  sportive  grae',  ar,)und  thee  plays  : 
Yet  'tis  not  as  depicted  in  thy  breast — 

Not  as  within  tliy  soul's  fair  glass,  its  rays 
Are  mirror'd.     Tiie  respecti'ul  fealty 
That  my  heart's  nobleness  hath  won  for  thee, 

The  miracles  thou  workest  ev'rywhere. 

The  charms  thy  being  to  this  life  lirst  lent, — 
To  it,  mere  charms  to  reckon  th  )n'rt  content, 
I     To  lift,  they  seem  humanity  s  )  fair. 
The  witchery  sweet  of  ue'er-pjUuted  youth. 
The  talisman  of  innocence  and  truth — 

Him  I  would  s.'e,  who  thcue  to  scorn  can  dare  ! 
Thou  revellest  joyously  in  telling  o'er 

The  blooming  liowers     tliat    round     thy    path    are 
strown, — 
The  glad,  whom  thou  hast  made  so  evermore, — 

The  souls  that  tiiou  hast  eonquer'd  for  thine  own. 

— 

*  Tho  (Joldon  Book  is  tho  Rill  in   which,  in  nome  of  the  Italian 
Republics,  tho  names  of  noble  Families  were  iuscriUeJ. 


100  THE  MEETING. 

In  thy  deceit  so  blissful  be  thou  glad  ! 
Ne'er  let  a  waking  disenchantment  sad 

Hurl  thee  despairing  from  thy  dream's  proud  liigM ! 
Like  the  fair  tlow'rets  that  thy  beds  perfume, 
Observe  them,  but  ne'er  touch  them  as  they  bloom,— 

Plant  them,  but  only  for  the  distant  sight. 
Created  only  to  enchant  the  eye. 
In  faded  beauty  at  thy  feet  they'll  lie, 

The  nearer  thee,  the  nearer  their  long  night ! 


THE   MEETING. 

I  SEE  her  still— by  her  fair  train  surrounded. 
The  fau-est  of  them  all,  she  took  her  place  ; 

hl&v  I  stood,  by  her  bright  charms  confounded,. 
For,  oh  !  they  dazzled  with  their  heavenly  grace. 

With  awe  my  soul  was  fill'd— with  bliss  unbounded. 
While  gazing  on  her  softly  radiant  face  ; 

But  soon,  as  if  up-borne  on  wings  of  fire. 

My  fingers  'gau  to  sweep  the  sounding  lyre. 

The  thoughts  that  rush'd  across  me  in  that  hour. 
The  words  I  sang,  I'd  fain  once  more  invoke  ; 

Within,  I  felt  a  new-awakened  power. 
That  each  emotion  of  my  bosom  spoke. 

My  soul,  long  time  enchain'd  in  sloth's  dull  bower, 
Through  all  its  fetters  now  triumphant  broke  ; 

And  brought  to  light  utiknowu,  harmonious  numbers. 

Which,  in  its  deepest  depths,  had  liv'd  in  slumbers. 

And  when  the  chords  had  ceas'd  their  gentle  sighing. 
And  when  my  soul  rejoin'd  its  mortal  frame, 

I  look'd  upon  her  face  and  saw  love  vieing, 
In  ev'ry  feature,  with  her  maiden  shame. 

And  soon  my  ravish'd  heart  seem'd  heavenward  flying, 
Wlien  her  soft  whisper  o'er  my  senses  came. 

The  blissful  seraph's  choral  strains  alone 

Can  glad  mine  ear  again  with  that  sweet  tone. 


to  Einu.  loi 

Of  that  fond  hcnrt,  which  pinln;^'  flilenflv, 
Ne'er  ventures  to  express  its  focliuga  lowly. 

Tlie  real  and  moJe&t  worth  is  known  to  me — 
'Gninst  crnel  fiite  I'll  guarJ  its  causo  so  holy. 

Most  blest  of  all,  the  meek  one's  lot  shall  be — 
Love's  flowers  by  love's  owe   hand    are  gathered 
solely—  • 

The  fairest'pri/e  to  that  fond  heart  is  due, 

That  feels  it,  and  tUat-  beats  responsive  too  I 


70  EMMA, 

Far  tiVfay.^  where  darkness  reigneth, 
All  my  dream?  of  bliss  are  flown  ; 

Yet  with  love  my  gaze  remaineth 
Fixed  on  one  fair  star  alone. 

But,  alas  !  that  star  so  bright 

Sheds  no  lustre  save  by  night. 

If  in  slumbers  ending  never, 

Gloomy  death  had  seal'd  thine  eyes. 

Thou  hadst  liv'd  in  memoiy  ever — 
Thou  hadst  liv'd  still  in  my  sighs  ; 

But,  alas  !  in  light  thou  livest — 

To  my  love  no  answer  givest! 

Can  the  sweet  hopes  love  once  cherisi^'d 
Emma,  can  they  transient  prove? 

What  has  pass'd  away  and  jjerish'd- 
Emma,  say,  can  that  bo  love? 

That  bright  "flame  of  heavenly  birth — 

Can  it  die  like  things  of  earth? 


THE    SECRET, 

She  sought  to  breathe  one  word,  but  vainly- 

Too  many  listeners  were  nigh  ; 
And  vet  my  timid  glance  read  plainly 
The  language  of  her  speaking  eye. 


102  ESPECTATIOIJ. 

Thy  silent  glades  my  footstep  presses, 
Thou  fair  and  leaf-embosom'd  grove  I 

Conceal  "within  thy  green  recesses 
From  mortal  eye  our  sacred  love  ! 

Afar  mth  strange  discordant  noises, 

The  biTsy  day  is  echoing ; 
And,  'mid  the  hollo-w  hum  of  voices, 

I  hear  tiie  heavy  hammer  ring. 
'Tis  thus  that  man,  -with  toil  ne'er-ending. 

Extorts  from  Heaven  his  daily  bread  ; 
Yet  oft  unseea  the  Gods  are  sending 

The  gifts  of  fortune  on  his  head  ! 

Oh,  let  mankind  discover  never 

How  true  love  fills  with  bliss  our  hearts  i 
They  would  but  crush  our  joy  forever, 

For  joy  to  them  no  glov/  impai'ts. 
Thou  ne'er  wilt  from  the  world  obtain  it- 

'Tis  never  captured  save  as  prey ; 
Thou  needs  must  strain  each  nerve  to  gain  it, 

E'er  Envy  dark  asserts  her  sway. 

The  hours  of  night  and  stillness  loving, 

It  comes  upon  us  silently — 
Away  with  hasty  footstep  moving 

Soon  as  it  sees  a  treach'rous  eye. 
Thou  gentle  stream,  soft  circlets  weaving, 

A  wat'ry  barrier  cast  around. 
And,  with  thy  waves  in  anger  heaving. 

Guard  from  each  foe  this  holy  ground  I 


EXPECT  ATI  ON. 

Hear  I  the  portal  not  flying  ? 

Hear  I  the  latchet  not  fall  ? 
No,  'tis  but  the  Zophja*  sighing 
Gently  through  the  poplars  taU. 

Put  on  thy  fairest  drc^,  thou  leafy  grove, 

To  welcome  her  sweet  face  its  charms  displaying! 

Ye  branches  weave  a  shady  roof  above, 

When  she,  at  eve's  soft  hour,  is  hither  straying  1 


EXPECTATION. 


103 


And  nil  ye  balmy  winds,  tlmt  sportivo  rove, 

Awake,  and  round  her  l>liisLiug clucks  'gin playing, 
Soon  as  her  loot,  all  gently  moving  on, 
Its  beauteous  burden  bears  to  Love's  own  thro.ie  ! 

Hark  to  yon  sound  that  seems  parting 
The  bushes,  and  hastening  near  ! — 
No,  'tis  but  the  bird  upstarting 
I'rom  the  copse,  in  sudden  fear  ! 

Oh,    quench   thy  torch,    bright  Day !     And  thou,   pale 
Night, 

"With  thy  propitious  silence  o'er  \\s  hover  ! 
Around  us  spread  a  V(  il  of  purple  light ! 

Let  mystic  boughs  our  blissful  meeting  cover  ! 
From  listeners'  ears,  Love's  raptures  take  their  flight. 

They  fly  when  I'hcebus'  beams  the  world  rule  over; 
For  Hesi^crus  alone,  who  silently 
Casts  down  his  rays,  their  couHdaut  can  be  ! 

Hear  I  not  soft  whispers  cleaving 
The  air  as  the  echoes  they  wake  ? 

No,  'tis  but  the  cygnet  weaving 

Circlets  in  the  silv'ry  lake  ! 

A  flood  of  harmony  mine  ear  assails, — 

The  fountain's  gush  with  murnnir  sweet  is  falhng-  - 
The  west  wind's  balmy  kiss  the  flow'ret  hails, — 

And  all  creation  smiles  with  joy  enthralling  ; 
The  pni^jle  grape,  the  luscious  peach  that  veils, 

'Neath    shelt'ring  leaves,    its  chai'ms,    seem     softly 
calling ; 
The  inccnse-beai-ing  Zephyrs,  as  ihey  blow. 
Drink  from  my  biu'ning  cheeks  their  fieiy  glow ! 

Do-wn  through  yon  laurel-walk  rushmg. 
Hear  not  I  footsteps  resound '? 

No,  'tis  but  the  fruit  all  bhishing, 

Falling  ripen'd  to  the  ground  ! 

In  gentle  death  now  sinks  day's  flaming  eye. 
And  all  his  gorgeous  hues  ara  fast  declining ; 

The  flowers,  that  'neath  his  fiery  ardor  si.^h. 
Open  theii'  cups,  whei?  t^viLight  soft  'gins  sliinuig ; 


104 


EVENING. 


The  moon  her  silver  beams  shed  silently, — 

The  world  in  shadows  dim  its  form  issluining ; 
Each  charm  its  circling  girdle  lays  aside, 
And  Beauty  stands  disclos'd  in  modest  pride  ! 

Is't  not  a  white  form  advancing  ? 

Gleams  not  its  soft-rustling  train  ? 
No,  'tis  Lut  the  yew-trees  glancing 
Yon  dim  columns  back  again  ! 

"With  sweet  but  airy  di'eams  like  these  to  play, 
No  longer  be  content,  thou  bosom  panting  ! 
No  shadowy  bliss  my  heart's  mad  thirst  can  stay — 

She  whom  this  arm  would  clasp,  alas,  is  wanting ! 
Oh,  guide  her  living,  breathing  charms  this  way  ! 

Oh,  let  me  press  her  hand,  with  joy  enchanting  ! 
The  very  shadow  of  her  mantle's  seam- 
But  lo  ! — a  form  of  hfe  assumes  my  di'eam  ! 

And  as,  from  the  Heavens  descending, 
Appears  the  sweet  moment  of  bliss. 

In  silence  her  steps  thither  bending, 
She  waken'd  her  love  with  a  kiss  ! 


EVENING. 

(after  a  picture.) 

Oh  !  thou  bright-beaming  God,  the  plains  are  thirstmgj 
Thirstmg  for  freshening  dew,  and  man  is  pining  ; 

Weai-ily  move  on  thy  horses — 

Let,  then,  thy  chariot  descend ! 

Seest  thou  her  who,  from  Ocean's  crystal  billows, 
Lovingly  nods  and  smi](>s  ? — Thy  heart  must  know  her ! 
Joyously  speed  on  thy  horses, — • 
Tethys,  the  Goddess,  'tis  nods  I 

Swiftly  from  out  his  flaming  chariot  leaping. 

Into  her  arms  he  springs, — the  reins  takes  Cupid,— 

Quietly  stand  the  horses. 

Drinking  the  coolinjo-  flood, 


liONOINO.  lOfl 

Now,  from  the  IToaveiiS  -witli  gentle  step  d-^^endiiig. 
Balmy  Night  niipiurs,  liy  sweet  Love  follow'd; 

Mortiils,  rest  ye  and  lovo  ye, — 

Phoebus,  the  levuig  one,  rests  1 


LONGING. 


Could  I  from  thLs  valley  drear, 

Where  the  mist  hangs  heavily. 
Soar  to  some  more  blissful  sphere 

Ah  !  ht)W  hai)py  should  I  be  1 
Distant  hills  enchant  my  sight. 

Ever  young  and  ever  f:ur  ; 
To  those  hills  I'd  take  my  flight 

Had  I  wings  to  scale  the  air. 


Harmonies  mine  ear  assail, 

Tones  that  breathe  a  heavenly  calm ; 
And  the  gentle-sighing  gale 

Greets  me  Avith  its  fragrant  balm. 
Peeping  through  the  shady  bowers. 

Golden  fruits  their  charms  display. 
And  those  sweetly-blooming  flowers 

Ne'er  become  cold  winter's  prey. 

In  yon  endless  sunshine  bright, 

Oh  !  what  bliss  'twould  be  to  dwelj\ 
How  the  l^reeze  on  yond'-r  height 

Must  the  heart  with  rapture  swell  j 
Yet  the  stream  that  hems  my  path 

Checks  me  with  its  angry  frown, 
While  its  waves,  in  rising  wrath. 

Weigh  my  weaiy  si)irit  down. 

See — a  bark  is  di-aAnng  near. 

But,  alas,  the  pih)t  fails  ! 
Enter  boldly — wherefore  fear  ? 

Inspirati(ju  fills  its  sails. 
Faith  and  courage  make  thine  owti,-' 

Gods  ne'er  lend  a  helping  hand ; 
'Tis  by  magic  power  alone 

Thou  canst  reach  the  magic  land ! 


106 
FHE  PILGRIM. 

Yes  !  'twas  in  life's  happy  morning 

That  I  first  began  to  roam, 
And,  Youth's  transient  pleasures  scorning, 

Left  for  aye  my  native  home. 

All  the  wealtii  by  fate  imparted 
To  the  winds  "with  joy  I  hui'l'd ; 

Then  with  conscience  single-hearted, 
GrasjD'd  my  staff,  and  sought  the  world. 

By  a  mighty  impulse  di'iven — 
By  a  voice  of  m^'stic  strength — 

*'  Go  !  "  it  cried,  "to  thee  'tis  given 
Happiness  to  reach  at  length. 

"  Wlien  thou  seest  a  golden  portal 

Near  thee  lying,  enter  in  ; 
There  each  thing  that  eartii  made  mortal. 

Heavenly  is,  and  free  fi-om  sin." 

Evening  came,  and  morn  succeeded. 

On  I  went  nn^\'eariedly  ; 
But  the  rest  my  bosom  needed 

Ever  from  me  seemed  to  fly. 

In  my  path  lay  mountain  ridges, 
Streams  to  hem  my  progress  roll'd ; 

Yet  I  spann'd  their  gulfs  Avith  bridges — 
Cross'd  each  flood  with  coiu'age  bold. 

Till  at  length  I  reached  a  torrent — 
Eastward  ran  its  waters  clear  ; 

Trusting  fondly  to  tlie  current, 
In  I  plunged  without  a  fear. 

Soon  into  a  mighty  ocean 

I  was  carri(>d  by  the  stream  ; 
Vain  now  jsrov'd  my  self-devotion, — 

All  was  but  an  empty  dream  I 

Naught,  alas,  can  lead  me  thither ! — 
Yon  bright  realms  of  Heaven  so  clear 

xNe'er  can  send  their  brightness  hither — 
And  the  There  is  never  Here  | 


107 
THE  IDEALS. 

Ani>  -wilt  thou,  Fiiithloss  one,  then,  leave  me^ 

Witli  ill!  thy  ni<afi;ic  i)liaiitiisy, — 
Witli  all  tlio  thoughts  tlmt  joy  or  grieve  me, 

Wilt  thou  "with  Jill  f(jr  ever  fly  ? 
Can  naught  delay  thine  onward  motion, 

Thou  golden  tinit!  of  life's  young  di-eam? 
In  vain  !     Eternity's  -wide  ocean 

Ceaselessly  di'owns  thy  rolling  stream. 

The  glorious  suns  my  youtli  enchanting 

Have  set  in  never-ending  night ; 
Those  blest  Ideals  now  are  wanting 

That  swcll'd  my  lieart  with  mad  delight. 
The  oll'spriug  of  my  dream  liath  perisli'd. 

My  faith  in  Being  pass'd  away  ; 
The  godlike  hoi)es  that  once  I  cherish 'd 

Are  now  Ideality's  sad  prey. 

As  once  Pygmalion,  fondly  yearning, 

Embrac'd  the  statue  form'd  by  liim, 
Till  the  cold  marble's  cheeks  wore  burning, 

And  life  diftus'd  through  ev'ry  Umb, — 
So  I,  with  youthful  passion  fired, 

My  longing  arms  round  Nature  threAV 
Till,  clinging  to  my  breast  inspired, 

Bhe  'gan  to  breathe,  to  kindle,  toe. 

And  all  my  fiory  ardor  pro\-ing, 

Though  mute,  her  tale  she  soon  conld  tell, 
Return'd  each  kiss  I  gave  her  loving. 

The  throbbings  of  my  heart  read  well. 
Then  living  seem'd  each  tree,  each  flower, 

TIhmi  SAveetly  sang  the  Avaterfall, 
And  e'en  the  soulless  in  that  hour 

Shar'd  in  the  heav'uly  bliss  of  all. 

For  then  a  circhiig  "World  was  bursting 
My  bosom's  narrow  prison-cell, 

To  enter  into  Being  thirsting, 

In  deed,  word,  shape,  and  sound  as  well. 

This  world,  how  wondrous  groat  I  deem'd  it^ 
Ere  yet  its  blossoms  could  unfold  I 


i08  THE  IDEALS, 

Wlien  open,  oh,  how  little  seem'd  it  f 
That  little,  oh,  how  mean  and  cold  1 

How  happy,  Aving'd  by  coiirage  daring. 

The  youtli  Life's  mazy  path  first  press'd— 
No  care  his  manly  strength  inipahing. 

And  in  his  di-oam's  sv.eet  vision  blest  I 
The  dimmest  star  in  air's  dominion 

Seem'd  not  too  distant  for  his  flight ; 
His  yoimg  and  ever-eager  pinion 

Soar'd  far  beyond  all  mortal  sight. 

Thus  joyously  tow'rd  Heaven  ascending, 

Was  aught  for  his  bright  hopes  too  far  ? 
The  airy  guides  his  steps  attending. 

How  danced  they  round  Life's  radiant  car  I 
Soft  Love  was  there,  her  guerdon  bearing. 

And  Fortune,  with  her  crown  of  gold, 
And  Fame,  her  starry  chajslet  wearing, 

And  Truth,  in  majesty  untold. 

But  while  the  goal  was  yet  before  them, 

The  faithless  guides  began  to  stray ; 
Impatience  of  their  task  came  o'er  them. 

Then  one  by  one  they  di-opp'd  away. 
Light-footed  Fortune  first  retreatuig, 

Then  Wisdom's  tliirst  remaiu'd  mistiil'd, 
Wliile  heavy  storms  of  doubt  were  beating 

Upon  the  path  Truth's  radiance  fill'd. 

I  saw  Fame's  sacred  wreath  adorning 

The  brows  of  an  unwoi-thy  crew ; 
And,  ah  !  how  soon  Love's  happy  morning. 

When  spring  had  vanish'd,  vanish'd  tv.o  , 
More  silent  yet,  and  yet  more  weary. 

Became  the  desert  path  I  trod ; 
And  even  Hope  a  glimmer  dreary 

Scarce  cast  upon  the  gloomy  road. 

Of  all  that  train,  so  bright  with  glacinesSj 
Oil,  who  is  faithful  to  the  end  ? 

Who  now  will  seek  to  cheer  my  sadness. 
And  to  the  grav^  my  steps  attend? 


THE  maiden's  lament.  yi09 

Thou,  Friendship,  of  all  guides  tlie  fairest, 

Who  f^cutly  healest  cv'iy  -vvoiunl ; 
Who  all  Life's  heavy  burdens  sharest. 

Thou,  whom  I  early  sought  and  found  I 

Employment,  too,  thy  loving  neighbor. 

Who  quells  the  bosom's  rising  storms ; 
Wlio  ne'er  grows  weary  of  her  labor. 

And  ne'er  destroys,  though  slow  slio  forms  ; 
Win),  though  but  gi'aius  of  sand  she  i^laces 

To  swell  eternity  sublime, 
Yet  minutes,  days,  aye  1  years  effaces 

From  the  dread  reckoning  kept  by  Time  I 


THE  MAIDEN'S  LAMENT. 

THEcloiids  fast  gather, 

Tiie  forest-oaks  roar, — 
A  maiden  is  sitting 

Beside  the  green  shore, — 
Th(^  billows  are  breaking  with  might,  Avitli  might. 
And  she  sighs  aloud  in  the  darkling  night, 
Her  eyelids  heavy  with  weej)ing. 

"  My  heart's  dead  within  me. 

The  world  is  a  void  ; 
To  the  Avish  it  gives  nothing. 
Each  hope  is  dtstroy'd. 
I  have  tasted  the  fulness  of  bliss  below — 
I  have  liv'd,  I  have  lov'd, — thy  child,  oh  take  now, 
Thou  Holy  One,  into  thy  keeping  1" 

"  In  vain  is  thy  sorrow. 
In  vain  thy  tears  fall, 
For  the  Dead  from  their  slumbers 
They  ne'er  can  recall; 
Yet  if  aught  can  pour  comfort  and  balm  in  thy  heart, 
Now  tliat  lovo  its  sweet  pleasures  no  more  can  iuii)artj 
Speak  thy  wish,  and  thou  granted  shalt  find  it  1  " 

"Though  in  vain  is  my  sorrow. 
Though  in  vain  my  tears  fall,— 


110  THE  TfOTJTH  AT  THE  BROOK. 

Though  the  Dead  from  their  slumbers 
They  ue'ei'  can  recall, 
Yet  no  balm  is  so  sweet  to  the  desolate  heart, 
When  love  its  soft  pleasures  no  more  can  iinpcii. 
As  the  torments  that  lova  leaves  behind  it  1" 


THE  YOUTH  AT  THE  BROOH 

Neab  a  brook  a  boy  is  sitting, 

Twining  many  a  garland  gay  ; 
But,  alas  !  he  sees  them  ever 

Hurried  by  the  stream  away. 
"  Restless  as  those  dancing  waters. 

My  sad  days  are  fleeting  on  ; 
Transient  as  those  fragrant  garlands^ 

Lo  I  my  youth  will  soon  be  gone. 

"Ask  me  not  why  I  am  sorrowing 
In  the  si^ring-time  of  my  years  ! 

Joy  and  hope  till  every  creature 

Soon  as  smiling  Spring  appears  ; 

But  the  thousand  voices  hailmg 
Nature  wak'uing  from  her  sleep, 

In  my  bosom  waken  only 

Anguish  bitter,  torments  deep. 

"What  avail  to  ?/?e  the  pleasures 

Spring  is  able  to  convey  ? 
There  is  only  one  I  sigh  for. 

Yet,  though  near,  'tis  far  away. 
Fahi  I'd  seize  the  flattering  vision, 

Fain  I'd  clasp  it  to  my  breast ; 
But,  alas  !  it  ever  flies  me. 

And  my  heart  remains  oppress'dc 

"Leave  thy  castle  proud  behind  thes 
Hitlior,  maiden,  Avend  thy  Avay ; 

And  I'll  fill  thy  lap  with  flowers, 
Oifspring  of  all-bounteous  May. 


THE   FAVOn   OP   THE   MOMKN'T.  Ill 

Hark  !  tlio  stroamlet  snfdy  inurmius, 

J ()y(ju.s  carols  till  the  iiir  ; 
E'en  a  cottage  is  a  palace 

To  a  liappy,  loving  pair  !  " 


THE  FAVOR  OF  I  HE  MOMENT, 

So,  at  length,  once  more  we  meet 

In  the  Muses'  glad  domain  I 
Let  us  twine  a  garland  sweet, 

Fit  to  grace  their  brows  again  ! 

To  what  God  shall  we  now  bring 

Earlii'st  tribute  of  our  lays? 
Lot  us  lirst  y//.s  glory  sing, 

Who  Avith  bliss  our  toil  repays. 

Wliat  avails  it  that  a  Soul 

Ceres  l)reat]K'S  into  the  shrine? 

That  great  Bacchus  brims  the  bowl 
With  the  red  blood  of  the  vine  ? 

If  fliat  spark  -which  set  on  fire 

Mortal  hearths,  comes  not  from  high, 

Joy  will  ne'er  the  soul  inspire, 
And  the  heart  will  vainly  sigh. 

From  the  clouds  must  fortime  fall, 

From  the  lap  of  Deities  ; 
And  the  mightiest  Lord  of  all 

Is  the  moment  as  it  tlies. 

'Mongst  the  things  that  have  their  birth 

'Neath  eternal  Nature's  sway, 
Naught  is  god-like  here  on  earth, 

Save  the  thought's  all-piercing  ray. 

Slowly  stone  and  stone  unite, 

As  the  circhng  seasons  roll ; 
But  our  work  will  see  the  light 

ISoou  as  fuiliiou'd  by  the  soiU, 


112  MOtTNTAIjf  SOSfG. 

As  the  simliglit's  radiant  glow 
Weaves  a  golden  tapestry — ■ 

As  upon  lier  gorgeous  bow 
Iris  quivers  in  the  sky, 

So  each  gift  that  joys  the  heart 
rieeteth  as  a  gleam  of  light ; 

Soon  for  aye  it  must  depart 
To  the  darksome  tomb  of  night. 


•    MOUNTAIN  SONG. 

Ton  bridge  o'er  the  giddy  abyss  will  conduct, 

From  Irfe  unto  death  'tis  the  portal ; 
But  figures  gigantic  the  lone  way  obstruct, 

And  threaten  to  crush  thee,  fraU  mortal ! 
And,  wouldst  thou  not  waken  the  avalanche  dread, 
The  terrible  path  thou  must  noiselessly  tread. 

High  over  the  brink  of  the  chasm  jjrofound 

An  arch  is  in  triumph  suspended  ; 
Twas  rais'd  not  liy  science  of  man  from  the  ground. 

Jlis  thoughts  to  such  heights  ne'er  ascended. 
Below,  late  and  early,  the  tierce  torrent  boils — 
Assails  it  in  fury,  but  fruitlessly  toils. 

A  dark  and  mysterious  gate  opens  wide, 
Beyond  seem  the  shadow-realms  dreaded ; 

Biit  sudden  a  region  of  l)liss  is  descried, 

Wliere  autumn  and  spring-time  are  wedded  ; 

Uh,  would  I  could  fly  to  that  vale  of  repose 

From  the  labors  of  life,  and  its  ne'er-ending  woes ,' 

fionv  streams  to  the  plain  with  wild  roar  issue  forth, 

Their  source  remains  hidden  for  ever  ; 
They  flow  to  tlio  East,  to  the  West,  Soutli,  and  North, 

The  world's  four  gr-eat  highways  they  sever. 
And  fast  as  their  mother  with  groans  gives  them  bii'tli, 
'dey  ti.y  away  swiftly  and  vanish  from  earth. 


Has  AliPIXE  SUNTEK.  liS 

Two  peaks,  far  above  the  weak  gaze  of  mankind 
From  Ether's  l)hie  vault  seem  ailvancing  ; 

Upon  them,  in  vapor  all-golden  en.shrin'tl, 
The  clouds,  II.Miven's  danghters,  are  dancLug. 

"lliL'ir  coui-se  all  alone  they  imceasing  pursue, 

The  eye  of  uo  mortal  their  progi'ess  can  \'iew. 

The  Queen,  on  a  throne  that  no  time  can  e'er  changt 

In  glory  and  brightness  is  sitting  ; — 
She  Aveareth  a  chaplct  of  diamonds  strange 

To  grace  her  fau-  forehead  Ijelitting. 
The  sun  shoots  his  an'ows  of  Ught  at  her  ever — 
They  gild  her,  'tis  true,  but  their  wannth  they  give  nevei  ! 


THE  ALPINE  HUNTER. 

Wilt  thou  not  the  lambldns  guard  ? 

Oh,  how  soft  and  meek  they  look, 
Feeding  on  the  grassy  sward. 

Sporting  round  the  sUv'rj^  brook ! 
'*  Mother,  mother,  let  me  go 
On  yon  heights  to  chase  the  roe  !" 

Wilt  thou  not  the  flock  compel 
With  the  horn's  iuspuing  notes  ? 

Sweet  the  echo  of  yon  bell, 
As  across  the  Avood  it  floats  I 

"Mother,  mother,  let  me  go 

On  you  heights  to  himt  the  roe  1" 

"Wilt  thou  not  the  flow'rets  bind, 
Smiluig  gently  in  their  bed  ? 

For  no  garden  thou  wilt  find 

On  yon  heights  so  wild  oiid  drea<l. 

"Leave  the  flow'rets, — let  them  blowi 

Mother,  mother,  let  me  go  !" 

And  the  youth  then  sought  the  chase, 
Onward  jiress'd  with  hi^adlong  speed 

To  the  mountain's  gloomiest  place, — 
Naught  his  progress  could  impede  ; 


114  DlTHTRAMfi. 

And  before  him,  like  the  -wind, 
S\vif  tly  flies,  the  trembling  hind. 

Up  the  naked  precipice 

Clambers  she,  with  footstep  light 
O'er  the  chasm's  dark  abyss 

Leaps  A\'ith  spiing  of  daring  mighi,? 
But  behind,  nuweariedly, 
With  his  death-bow  follows  he. 

Now  upon  tlie  mgged  top 

Stands  she,— on  the  loftiest  height, 

Where  the  cliffs  abruptly  stop, 
And  the  jiath  is  lost  to  sight. 

There  she  views  the  steeps  below, — 

Close  behind,  her  mortal  foe. 

She,  with  silent  woeful  gaze. 
Seeks  the  cruel  boy  to  move ; 

Btitj  alas  !  in  vaiu  she  prays — 
To  the  strmg  he  fits  the  groove. 

When  from  out  the  clefts,  behold  i 

Steps  the  Mountain  Genius  old. 

With  his  hand  the  Deity 

Shields  the  beast  that  trembling  sighs  | 
•'  Miist  thou,  even  tip  to  me, 

Death  and  anguish  send?"  he  cries, — 
"  Earth  hr,s  room  for  all  to  dwell, — 
Why  pursue  my  lov'd  gazelle  ?  " 


DITHYRAMB. 

Never, — ^iDelieve  me, — 
See  we  the  Deities — 
Never  alone. 
No  sooner  docs  Bacchus  the  Jovial  greet  me, 
Than  Love,  smiliug  lu'chin,  comes  bounding  to  me©* 
me, 
Phcebus  the  Radiant — ^he,  too,  is  one  I 
See  them  advancing, 
Crowding  the  portals  I 


THE    FOCn    AGES    OT   TTTE    'VTORLD.  llo 

Soon  in  my  dwelling 
Staiuls  each  iaimortal ! 

Say,  ye  Divine  ones, 
How  I,  a  frail  creature, 

Due  boma.'j^^e  ca.i  pay? 
Bright  immortality  so.aI  down  from  Heaven  ! 
Yet  what  requittal  by  mo  caa  be  give.i  ? 

Oh,  to  Olympns  guide  ui)ward  my  way  ! 
Bliss  dw(>lleth  only 

In  Jupiter's  i^alace ; 
Brimming  -with  nectar. 

Oh  !  give  mo  the  chalice  I 

Give  him  the  chalice 
Brim  fur  the  Poet, 

Hebe  the  bowl ! 
Moisten  his  eyes  vrith  the  dew  we  qiiaff  evei, 
Let  Stj*x,  the  dark  torrent,  be  seen  by  him  never, 

Let  visions  celestial  brighten  liis  soul  1 
The  heavenly  fountain 

Sparkles  and  bubbles, 
Gladd'ning  the  bosom, 

And  banishing  troubles  I 


i'HE  FOUR  AGSS  OF  THE  WORLD, 

The  goblet  is  sparkling  with  purple-tmged  "nine. 
Bright  glistens  the  eye  of  each  gue^»t, 

Wlien  into  the  liall  comr's  the  Minstrel  divine, 
To  tl:e  good  he  now  brings  wiiat  is  best; 

For  Avhen  from  Elysium  is  absent  the  IjTe, 

No  joy  can  the  banquets  of  uectar  insi>ire. 

Ha  is  blest  by  the  Gods  with  an  intellect  elf  ar. 

That  miiTors  the  Avorld  as  it  glides  ; 
Ho  has  seen  all  that  ever  has  taken  place  here, 

And  all  that  the  future  still  hides. 
He  sat  in  the  God's  secret  councus  oi  old, 
And  heard  the  command  for  each  thing  to  unfold, 


116  THE  FOUR  AGES   OF   THE   WORLD. 

He  opens  in  splendor,  witli  gladness  and  mirthj 
That  life  wliich  was  hid  from  oiir  eyes  ; 

Adorns  as  a  temple  the  dwelling  of  eai-th, 
Tliat  the  Muse  has  bestoM'Vl  as  his  priae. 

No  roof  is  so  humble,  no  hut  is  so  low, 

But  he  with  Divinities  bids  it  o'erliow. 

And  as  the  inventive  descendant  of  Zeus, 

On  the  ixnadorn'd  round  of  tlie  shield, 
With  knov/ledge  divine  could,  reflected,  produce 

Earth,  sea,  and  the  stars'  shining  field, — 
So  he,  ou  the  morcents,  as  onward  they  roll, 
The  image  can  stamp  of  the  iniiuite  ^Vhole. 

From  the  earliest  age  of  the  world  he  has  come, 

Wlien  nations  rejoiced  in  their  prime  ; 
A  wanderer  glad,  he  has  still  found  a  home 

With  every  race  through  all  time. 
Foiu*  ages  of  man  iu  his  lifetime  have  died. 
And  the  place  they  ouce  held  by  the  Fifth  is  supplied. 

Satnmus  fii-st  govei-n'd,  with  fatherly  smile, 

Each  day  then  resembled  the  last ; 
Then  flourish'd  the  Shepherds,  a  race  withoiit  giule— 

Their  bliss  by  no  care  was  o'ercast. 
They  lov'd, — and  no  other  employment  they  had. 
And  Eai-th  gave  her  treasures  with  wiUiuguess  glad. 

Then  Labor  came  next,  and  the  conflict  began 
With  monsters  and  beasts  f  am'd  in  song ; 

^jid  heroes  upstarted,  as  rulers  of  man, 
And  the  weak  sought  the  aid  of  the  strong. 

And  strife  o'er  the  fiald  of  Scamander  now  reign'd, 

But  Beauty  the  God  of  the  world  still  remain'd. 

At  length  from  the  conflict  bright  Victory  sprang, 
And  gentleness  blossom'd  from  might ; 

In  heavenly  chorus  the  Muses  then  sang, 
And  figures  divine  saw  the  light ; — 

The  age  that  acknowledg'd  sweet  Phantasy's  sway 

Can  never  retuiii,  it,  has  fleeted  away. 

'Clie  Gods  from  their  seats  in  the  Heavens  were  hurl'd, 
And  their  piiluis  of  glory  o'erthi-own ; 


Hiscii  som  lit 

Aju\  tliG  Son  of  tlio  Virp;ia  apiioar'd  in  tlio  world 

For  tho  sins  of  uiiuikiucl  to  atone. 
The  fugitive  lusts  of  the  sonso  -were  Hiippress'd, 
And  man  noAV  tirst  grappled  -svitli  Thought  it  hi.s  breast 

Each  vain  and  voluptuous  charm  vanish'd  now, 

Whcn-in  the  you.r^  world  took  dcliglit ; 
Tho  monk  and  the  r.un  mudo  of  ponance  a  vow, 

And  tho  tourney  AViiH  sought  l)y  the  kuight. 
Though  tho  aspect  of  life  was  now  dreary  and  wild, 
Yet  Love  remain'd  ever  both  lovely  and  mild. 

An  altar  of  holiness,  free  from  all  stain. 

The  Mnscs  in  sUence  uprear'd  ; 
And  all  that  was  noble  and  worthy,  again 

In  woman's  chaste  bosom  appeaj-'d  ; 
The  bright  flame  of  song  was  soon  kindled  anew 
By  the  minstrel's  soft  lays,  and  Lis  love,  pure  and  trua 

And  so,  in  a  gentle  and  ne'er-changing  band, 

Let  woman  and  minstrel  uuita  ; 
They  w  eave,  and  they  fashit>n,  with  hand  join'd  to  hand, 

The  girdle  of  Beauty  and  Eight. 
Wlioti  lo"e  blends  with  music,  in  unison  sweet. 
The  lustre  of  Jilo's  youthful  days  ne'er  can  fieet. 


PUNCH  SONG. 

Four  elements,  join'd  in 
Harmonious  strife. 

Shadow  the  world  forth, 
And  typify  life. 

Into  the  goWet 

The  lemon's  iuiee  pour? 
Acid  is  ever 

Life's  innermost  core. 

Now  with  the  sugar's 
All-bol'tening  juico, 


11^  TO  MY  FBIENUa 

The  strength  of  the  acid 
So  bui'ning  reduce. 

The  bright  sparkling  water 

Now  jjour  in  the  bowl ; 
"Water  all-geutly 
Encircles  the  whole. 

Let  drops  of  the  spirit 
To  join  them  now  flow  ; 

Life  to  the  living 

Naught  else  can  bestow. 

Drain  it  off  quickly 
Before  it  exhales  ; 

Save  when  'tis  glo^ving, 
The  draught  naught  avails. 


TO  MY  FRIENDS. 

Yes,  my  friends  ! — that  happier  times  have  he&z 
Than  the  jaresent,  none  can  contravene  ; 

That  a  race  once  liv'd  of  nobler  worth  ; 
And  if  ancient  chronicles  were  dumb, 
Countless  stones  in  witness  forth  Avould  come 

From  the  deepest  entrails  of  the  earth. 
But  this  highly-favor'd  race  has  gone, 

Gone  for  ever  to  the  realms  of  night. 
We,  we  live  !     The  moments  are  our  own. 

And  the  living  judge  the  right. 

Brighter  zones,  my  friends,  no  doubt  excel 
This,  the  land  wherein  we're  doom'd  to  dwell 

As  the  hardy  travelers  i)roclaim  ; 
But  if  Natwe  has  denied  us  much. 
Art  is  yet  responsive  to  our  touch, 

And  our  hearts  can  kindle  at  }i<:r  flame. 
If  the  laiu-ol  will  not  flourish  here — 

If  the  myrtle  is  c(jld  winter's  prey, 
Yet  the  vine,  to  crown  us,  year  by  year, 

Still  puts  forth  its  foliage  gay. 


rUNCn   GOrCCi.  119 

Of  a  busier  life  'tis  well  to  spoak, 

Where  four  worlds  their  Aveaitli  to  barter  seek, 

On  the  world's  great  market,  Thames'  broad  stream  ; 
Ships  in  thousands  go  there  and  depart — • 
There  are  seen  the  costliest  works  of  art, 

A:i.l  the  earth-god,  Mammon,  reij^ns  supreme  : 
But  the  sun  his  image  only  graves 

On  the  silent  streamlet's  level  plain, 
Not  ujion  the  torrc^nt's  mucltly  Avaves, 

Swollen  by  heavy  rain. 

Far  more  bless'd  than  we,  in  Northern  States, 
Dwells  the  beggar  at  the  Angel-gates, 

For  he  sees  the  peerless  city — Rome  ! 
Beauty's  glorious  charms  around  him  lie. 
And  a  second  Heaven  up  tow'rd  the  sky 

Mounts  St.  Peter's  proud  and  Avondrous  dome. 
But,  Avith  all  the  charms  that  splendor  grants, 

Rome  is  but  the  tomb  of  ages  past ; 
Life  but  smiles  upon  the  blooming  i)lant3 

That  the  seasons  round  her  cast. 

Greater  actions  elsewhere  may  be  rife 
Than  Avith  us,  in  our  contracted  life — 

But  l)eneatli  the  sun  there's  naught  that's  new ; 
Yet  Avo  see  the  great  of  ev'ry  age 
Pass  before  us  on  the  Avorld's  Avide  stage 

Thoughtfully  and  calmly  in  revicAv  : 
All  in  life  repeats  itself  for  ever. 

Young  for  aye  is  phantasy  aUmo  ; 
Wliat  has  happen'd  nowhere, — happen'd  never,— 

That  hixs  never  older  gi-OAvn  ! 


PUNCH  SONG. 

(to  be  sung  IX  NORTHERN  COUNTRIES.) 

On  the  mountain's  breezy  summit. 
Where  the  Southern  sunbeams  shin© 

Aided  by  tlu'ir  Avarming  vigor. 
Nature  yields  the  golJeu  Aviue, 


120  PUKCH  SONG. 

Hqw  tlie  Avondrous  mother  f  ormeth. 
None  have  ever  read  aright ; 

Hid  for  ever  is  her  working, 
And  inscrutable  her  might. 

Sparkling  as  a  son  of  Phoebus, 
As  the  fiery  source  of  light, 

Prom  the  vat  it  bubbling  springeth. 
Purple,  and  as  crystal  bright ; 

And  rejoiceth  all  th.e  senses, 
And  in  ev'ry  sorrowuig  breast 

Pouretli  Hope's  refreshiiig  balsam, 
And  on  life  bestows  new  zest. 

But  their  slanting  rays  all  feebly 
On  our  zone  the  sunbeams  shoot  j 

They  can  only  tinge  the  foliage, 
But  they  ripen  ne'er  the  fruit. 

Yet  the  North  insists  on  living. 
And  what  lives  will  merry  be  ; 

So  although  the  grape  is  wanting, 
We  invent  wine  cleverly. 

Pale  the  drink  we  noAv  ai'e  ofFring 
On  the  household  altar  here ; 

But  wliat  living  Nature  ma^keth, 
Sparkling  is  and  ever  clear. 

Let  us,  from  the  liriraming  goblet, 
Drain  the  troubled  flood  with  mirtk  ■ 

Art  is  but  a  gift  of  Heaven, 

Borrowed  from  the  glow  of  earth. 

Even  strength's  dominions  boundles,' 
'Neath  luu'  rule  obetUent  lie  ; 

From  the  old  the  new  slio  fashions 
With  creative  energy. 

She  the  elements'  close  union 
Severs  with  her  sov'reign  nod ' 


NADO^T.SSiAN    DEATil-LAMENt.  121 

Witli  tiio  flume  iipr.n  tlio  altar, 
Emulates  the  great  Suii  God. 

For  the  distant,  happy  islands, 

Now  the  Vessel  .sallies  f(n'tli. 
And  the  Southern  fruits,  all-golden, 

Pours  upon  the  eager  North. 

As  a  type,  then, — as  an  image, 

Be  to  us  this  tiery  juice, 
Of  the  Avondei-s  thnt  frail  mortals 

Cau  Avith  steadfast  will  produce  ! 


NADOWcSSiAN  DEATH-LAMENT. 

See,  he  sitteth  ou  his  mat, 

Sitteth  there  upright, 
With  the  grace  -with  Avliich  he  sat 

Wliilo  lie  saw  the  light. 

Where  is  now  the  sturdy  gripe,— 

Wliere  the  breath  sedate, 
Tliat  so  lately  Avhili\l  the  pipe 

Tow'rd  the  Spirit  Great  ? 

Wliere  the  bright  and  falcon  eye, 

That  the  reindeer's  tread 
Oil  the  Avaving  grass  could  spy, 

Thick  -with  dew-drops  spread  ? 

Wliere  the  limbs  that  used  to  dart 

Swifter  through  the  snow 
Thau  the  twenty-member'd  hart 

Than  the  mountain  roe  ? 

Where  the  ai-m  that  sturdily 

Bent  the  deadly  bow  ? 
See,  its  life  hath  fleeted  hj, 

See,  it  hangetli  low  \ 


122  THE  FEAST  OF  TICTOBT. 

Happy  lie  !^-He  now  has  gone 
Where  no  snow  is  foniid  : 

Wliere  with  maize  the  fields  are  sown, 
Self-sijrung  from  the  ground ; 

Wliere  with  birds  each  bush  is  fiU'cT, 
Where  with  game  the  wood  ; 

Wliere  the  fish,  Avith  joy  instill'd, 
Wanton  in  the  flood. 

With  the  spu-its  blest  he  feeds, — 
Leaves  us  here  in  gloom  ; 

We  •an  only  praise  his  deeds, 
And  liis  corpse  entomb. 

Farewell- gifts,  then,  hither  bring, 
Sound  the  death-note  sad  ! 

Bury  witli  him  ev'rytiiing 
That  can  make  him  glad. 

'Neath  his  head  the  hatchet  hide 

That  he  boldly  swung  ; 
And  the  bear's  fat  haunch  beside, 

For  the  road  is  long ; 

And  the  knife,  well  sharj^ened 

That,  with  slaslies  three, 
Scaljj  and  skin  from  foeman's  head 

Tore  off  skilfully. 

And  to  paint  his  body,  place 

Dyes  within  his  hand  ; 
Let  him  shine  with  ruddy  grace 

In  the  Spirit-Land  ' 


THE  FEAST  OF  VICTORY. 

Priam's  castle-walls  had  sunk, 
Troy  in  dust  and  aslies  lay. 

And  each  Greek,  with  triumph  dnini 
Bichly  ladeu  with  his  prey. 


THE  FEAST  OF   VlCTOnY.  123 

oat  upon  his  Bhip's  high  i>row, 

On  th(3  Ht'llespontic  .struud, 
Starting  on  his  journey  now, 

Bountl  lor  (ir.'uce,  his  own  fair  land. 
Riii5<e  the  glatl,  exulting  shout ! 

Tow'rd  tlie  laiul  that  gave  tlieni  birtk 
Turn  they  now  the  ships  about, 

As  they  seek  their  native  earth. 

And  in  rows,  all  mournfully, 

Sat  the  Trojan  women  there, — 
Beat  their  l)reasts  in  agDuy, 

P  lilid,  witli  dishevell'd  hair. 
In  the  feast  of  joy  so  glad 

Mingled  they  the  song  of  woe, 
Weeping  o'er  th<'ir  fortunes  sad. 

In  their  country's  overthrow, 
"Land  belov'd,  oh,  fare  thee  well ! 

By  our  foreign  masters  led, 
Far  from  lunie  we're  d  )om'd  to  dwell,^ 

Ah,  how  happy  are  the  dead!  " 

Soon  the  blood  by  Calchus  spilt 

On  the  altar  heavenward  smokes  ; 
Pallas,  by  wliom  towns  are  built 

And  destroy'd,  the  priest  invokes ; 
Neptune,  too,  wlio  all  the  earth 

With  his  billowy  girdle  laves, — 
Zeus,  who  gives  to  terror  birth, 

Wlio  the  dreaded  M^is  waves. 
Now  the  weary  fight  is  done. 

Ne'er  agaiu'to  be  renew'd  ; 
Time's  wide  circuit  now  is  run, 

And  the  miglity  town  subdued  ' 

Atreus'  son,  the  army's  head, 

Told  the  people's  numbers  o'er, 
"Whom  he,  as  their  c  iptain,  led 

To  S  ?amander'8  vale  of  yore. 
Sorrow's  black  and  heavy  clouds 

Pass'd  acr  jss  the  monarch's  browj 
Of  those  vast  and  valiant  crowds, 

Oil,  how  few  v/cre  left  him  now 
Joylul  songs  let  each  one  raise, 

Who  will  see  his  homo  again. 


la  'wliose  veins  the  life-blood  plays, 
For,  alaa,  not  all  remain  ! 

"  All  wlio  homeward  wend  their  way. 

Will  not  there  find  peace  of  mind  ; 
On  their  household  altars,  they 

Murder  foul  pc'reliance  may  find. 
Many  fall  by  false  friend's  stroke, 

Who  in  fight  immortal  prov'd  :"  — 
So  Ulysses  warning  spoke, 

By  Athene's  spirit  mov'd. 
Happy  he,  whose  faithful  spouse 

Guards  his  home  with  honor  true ! 
Woman  of  ttimes  breaks  her  vows, 

Ever  loves  she  what  is  new. 

And  Atrides  glories  there 

In  the  prize  he  won  in  fight, 
And  around  her  body  fair 

Twines  his  arms  with  fond  delight; 
Evil  works  must  punish'd  be, 

Vengeance  follows  after  crime. 
For  Kron'ion's  just  decree 

Rules  the  heav'uly  courts  sublime. 
Evil  must  in  evil  cud  ; 

Zeus  will  on  the  impious  band 
Woe  for  broken  guest-rights  send, 

Weighing  with  impartial  hand. 

"It  ma^  well  tke  glad  befit," 

Cried  O'ileus'  valiant  son,* 
"  To  extol  the  Gods  who  sit 

Oa  Oij'iapus'  lofty  throne  ! 
Fortune  all  lier  gifts  supplies. 

Blindly,  and  no  justice  knows, 
For  Patroclus  buried  lies, 

And  Theresites  homeward  goes  ! 
Since  she  blindly  thn^ws  away 

Each  lot  in  her  Avheel  contain'd. 
Let  him  siiout  with  joy  to-day 

Who  the  prize  of  life  has  gain'd. 


•  Ajaslhc  Lc88. 


THE   FEAST  OF  VICTORY.  126 

"  Aye,  the  wars  the  best  devour  ! 

Brother,  \\i^  ..ill  think  of  thee, 
111  the  h;^ht  a  vt-ry  tower, 

Wlieii  wo.  join  in  reveky  ! 
When  till!  Gii'fiim  8lii})s  were  fir'rl, 

By  tliiiu'  arm  was  safety  brought ; 
Yet  tlie  man  by  t'ra*'t  inspir'd  * 

Won  the  spoils  thy  valor  sought. 
Peace  be  to  thine  ashes  blest ! 

Thou  wert  vanijuisli'd  iKjt  in  fight : 
Anger  'ti»  destroys  the  best, — 

Ajax  fell  by  Ajax's  might !  " 

Neoptolemus  poiu''d,  then, 

To  his  sii-e  reno\\ai'd  t  the  wine — 
"  '^longst  the  lots  of  earthly  men, 

Mighty  father,  prize  I  thiue  ! 
Of  the  goods  that  life  supplies, 

Greatest  far  of  all  is  fame  ; 
Though  to  dust  the  body  llies, 

Yet  still  lives  a  noble  name. 
Valiant  one,  thy  glory's  ray 

Will  immortal  be  in  song  ; 
For,  though  life  may  pass  away, 

To  all  time  the  dead  belong  !  " 

"  Since  the  voice  of  minstrelsy 

Speaks  not  of  the  vanquish'd  man, 
T  will  Hector's  witness  be," — 

Tydeus'  noble  son  |  began  : 
"Fighting  bravely  in  defence 

Of  his  h(;Usehold-gods  he  fell. — 
Great  the  victor's  glory  thence, 

Jle  in  jjui^iose  did  excel ! 

Battling  for  his  altai's  dear. 

Sank  that  rock,  no  more  to  rise  ; 
E'en  the  foeman  -will  revere 

One  Avhose  houor'd  name  ne'er  dies." 


U:y8BeB.  -t  Achilles.  }  DiSmed. 


126  THE   FEAST   OF   VICTORY. 

Nestor,  joyous  reveller  old, 

Wlio  three  generations  saw, 
Now  the  leaf-croAvii'd  cup  of  gold, 

Gave  to  weeping  Hecuba. 
"  Drain  the  goblet's  draught  so  cool. 

And  forget  each  iiauiful  smart ! 
Bacchus'  gifts  ai'e  wonderful, — 

Balsam  for  a  broken  heart. 
Drain  the  goblet's  draught  so  cool. 

And  forget  each  painful  smart ! 
Bacchus'  gifts  are  wonderful, — 

Balsam  for  a  broken  heart. 

"E'en  to  Niobe,  whom  Heaven 

Lov'd  in  wrath  to  persecute, 
Respite  from  her  pangs  was  given, 

Tasting  of  the  corn's  ripe  fruit 
Whilst  the  thii'sty  lip  we  lave 

In  the  foaming,  living  spring. 
Buried  deep  in  Lethe's  wave 

Lies  all  giief,  all  sorro^ving  ! 
Whilst  the  thirsty  lip  we  lave 

In  the  foaming,  living  spring, 
Swallow'd  up  in  Lethe's  wave 

Is  all  giief,  all  sorrowing  !  " 

And  the  Prophetess  *  inspii-'d 

By  her  God,  upstarted  now, — 
Tow'rd  the  smoke  of  homesteads  fir'dj 

Looking  from  the  lofty  prow. 
"  Smoke  is  each  thing  here  below ; 

Ev'ry  worldly  greatness  dies, 
As  the  vapory  columns  go, — 

None  are  iixed  but  Deities  ! 
Cares  behind  the  horseman  sit — 

Round  about  the  vessel  play ; 
Lest  the  morrow  hinder  it. 

Let  us,  therefore,  live  to-day." 


— ^»i* 


'Cassandra. 


127 

THE  LAMENT  OF  CERESo 

Is't  the  beauteous  spring  I  see  ? 

Has  tlie  earth  grown  young  again? 
Sun-lit  hiUs  grow  verdantly, 

Bursting  through  tlu'ir  icy  chain. 
From  the  streamlet's  mirror  blue 

Sniili's  the  now  unclouded  sky, 
Zejiliyr's  wings  "wave  milder,  too, — 

Yontlil'ul  blossoms  ope  theii'  eye. 
In  the  gi'ove,  sweet  songs  resound, 

Speaks  the  Oroad  as  of  yore  ; 
OiKje  again  thy  llow'rs  are  found. 

But  thy  daughter  comes  no  more. 

Ah,  how  long  'tis  since  I  went 

First  in  search  o'er  earth's  wide  face  ! 
Titan  !     All  thy  rays  I  sent 

Seeking  for  the  jov'd  one's  trace  ; 
Of  that  form  so  dovir,  no  ray 

Hath  as  yet  biouglit  news  to  me, 
And  the  all-discerning  day 

Cannot  yet  the  lost  one  see. 
Hast  thou,  Zeus,  her  from  me  torn? 

Or  to  Oreus'  gloomy  streams, 
Is  she  downi  by  Pluto  borne. 

Smitten  by  her  charms'  bright  beams  7 

Wlio  will  to  yon  dreary  strand 

Be  the  herald  of  my  woe  ? 
Ever  leaves  the  bark  the  land, 

Yefe  but  shadows  in  it  go. 
To  each  bless'd  eye  evermore 

Clos'd  the  night-hke  fields  remain  ; 
Styx  no  living  form  e'er  bore. 

Since  liis  stream  first  wash'd  the  plain. 
Thousand  paths  lead  downwai'd  there, 

None  lead  up  again  to  light ; 
And  her  tears  no  witness  e'er 

Brings  to  her  sad  mother's  sight. 

Moth(>rs  who,  from  Pyii-ha  sprang, 

From  a  mortal  race  descend. 
May,  the  tomb's  tierce  flames  among, 

On  their  children  lov'd  attend  ; 


1^^  Tlfta  LAMENT  OF"   C:gl?M. 

Denizens  of  Heaven  alone 

Draw  not  near  the  gloomy  strand,— 
Parcse  !  save  Immortals,  none 

E'er  are  spar'd  by  yotu-  harsh  hand. 
Plunge  me  in  the  night  of  nights. 

From  the  halls  of  heaven  afar  ! 
Honor  not  the  Goddess'  rights — ■ 

They  the  mother's  torments  are  I 

Where  she,  with  her  consort  stern. 

Joyless  reigns,  there  went  I  do\YJi, — 
With  the  silent  shades,  in  turn, 

Silent  stood  before  her  throne. 
All !  her  eye,  Aveigh'd  down  with  tears. 

Seeks  in  vain  the  hght  so  fair, 
Wanders  tow'rd  far  distant  spheres, 

On  her  mother  falling  ne'er  ! 
Till  she  Avakes  to  ecstasy. 

Till  -svdth  joy  each  bosom  throbs, 
And,  arous'd  to  S3'mj)athy, 

Even  i-ugged  Oreus  sobs. 


Fruitless  wish  !     Lamenting  vain  ! 

In  its  smooth  track  peacefully 
Ever  rolls  day's  steady  waag, 

Ever  fixed  is  Jove's  decree. 
He  has  turn'd  his  blissful  head 

From  the  gloomy  realms  away ; 
She  to  me  is  ever  dead. 

Now  that  she  is  Night's  sad  i^rey, — 
Till  the  waves,  that  darkly  swell, 

With  Aurora's  colors  glow  ; 
Till  across  tlio  depths  of  Hell 

Iris  di-aws  her  beauteous  bow. 


Is  naiight  left  me  noAV  to  prove, 

Naught  that  as  a  pledge  may  stand; 
Tliat  the  al)sent  still  may  love  ? 

Not  a  trace  of  that  dear  hand  ? 
Can  no  loving  bond,  then,  spread 

O'er  a  moth(>r  and  her  child? 
Of  the  living  a;id  the  dead 

Can  there  be  no  union  mild  ? 


iritE  Lament  op  cekes.  129 

No,  Blie  is  not  wliolly  flown  ! 

We'ru  not  Avliolly  sever'cl  now  ! 
Fur  t(j  sjH'ak  one,  tonguo  alone 

Tliu  et(jriuil  Guil-j  allow. 


Wlien  Spring's  children  sink  in  death, 

Wlicju  the  leuf  and  flower  decay, 
Smittcm  by  tlie  Northwijid's  breath, 

Sadly  stands  the  naked  spray  : 
Tlien  I  take  what  best  can  live 

From  Viu-tiunniis'  teeming  horn, 
Oft'riug  it  to  Styx,  to  give 

In  return  the  golden  com, — 
Into  earth,  then,  mounifully 

Drop  it  on  my  daughter's  heart, 
That  it  may  a  language  be 

Of  my  love,  my  bitter  smart. 

Wlien  the  Hours'  unchanging  dance 

Brings  with  joy  the  S^n-ing  again, 
Wakcjj'-^  i^--'  the  sun's  l)right  glance. 

Will  pn'^  dead  fresh  life  obtain. 
Germs  mat  perish  to  the  sight 

In  the  chilly  womb  of  earth. 
In  tliG  color-realm  so  bright 

Free  themselves  again  with  mirth. 
When  the  stalk  shoots  high  in  air. 

Shyly  liu'ks  the  root  in  night ; 
Ec^ual  in  their  fost'ring  care 

Are  both  Styx's  and  ^Ether's  might. 

Half  tliey  rule  the  living's  sphere, 

Half  the  region  of  the  dead  ; 
Ah,  to  mo  they're  heralds  dear, 

Swecit  tones  from  Cocytus  clxead  I 
Though  herself  be  ever  dumb 

In  the  terrible  abyss. 
From  the  Spring's  young  blossoms  come 

To  mine  ears  these  words  of  bliss, — 
That  e'en  far  from  daylight  blest, 

Wliere  the  soiTowiiig  shadows  go, 
^r-viiiii-lv  may  throb  the  breast, 
TbiiuerVy  tiie  heart  may  glow  ! 


ISO  THE  ELEtrslNIAN  I-ESTlVAli. 

Oil,  be  glad,  then,  evermore, 

Smiling  meadows'  cliildren  true  ? 
For  joiw  clialice  shall  run  o'er 

With  the  nectar's  purest  dew. 
I  will  steep  yom*  forms  in  beams 

And  with  Iris'  f  ah-est  light 
Tinge  your  foliage,  till  it  gleams 

Like  Aurora's  features  bright. 
In  the  Spring-time's  radiance  blest, 

In  the  Autumn's  garland  dead. 
There  may  read  each  tender  breast 
Of  my  griefs — my  joys,  now  fled  ! 


THE  ELEU8INIAN  FESTIVAL. 

"Wreathe  in  a  garland  the  corn's  golden  ear  ! 

With  it,  the  Cyane  *  blue  intertwme  ! 
Bapture  must  render  each  glance  bright  and  clear, 

For  the  great  Qixeen  is  approaching  her  shiine,  - 
She  who  comp^'ls  lawless  jjassions  to  cease, 

Who  to  link  man  with  his  fellow  has  come. 
And  into  fh'm  hal  )itations  of  peace 

Chang'd  the  rude  tents'  ever-wandering  home 

Shyly  in  the  mountain-cleft 

Was  the  Troglodyte  conceal'd ; 
And  the  ro^dng  Nomad  left, 

Desert  lying,  each  broad  field. 
With  the  javlin,  with  the  bow 

Strode  the  hunter  throiigh  the  land  ; 
To  the  hapless  stranger,  woe, 

Billow-cast  on  that  wild  strand  ! 

Wlien,  in  her  sad  wanderings  lost. 

Seeking  traces  of  her  child, 
Ceres  liail'd  the  dreary  coast, 

Ah,  no  verdant  plain  then  smil'd  ! 


•  The  coru-flower. 


THE  ELErSIN'IAN   FESTITAli.  131 

'Phat  she  here  Avith  tmst  majf  stay, 

None  vouclisafes  a  sheltenng  roof ; 
Not  a  temple's  columns  gay 

Give  of  godlike  Avorship  proof. 

Fi'uit  of  no  propitious  ear 

Bids  lier  to  the  pure  feast  fly ; 
On  vhc  ghastly  altars  here 

Human  bones  alone  e'er  dry. 
Far  as  she  might  onwai'd  rove, 

Misery  found  she  still  in  aU, 
And  Avithin  her  soul  of  love, 

Sorrow'd  she  o'er  man's  deep  falL 

"  Is  it  thus  I  find  the  man 

To  Avlujm  Ave  our  Image  lend, 
Whose  fair  limbs  of  noble  span 

Upward  toA\''rd  the  Heavens  ascend  ? 
Laid  Ave  not  before  his  fe6t 

Earth's  unbounded  godlike  womb  ? 
Yet  upon  his  kingly  seat 

Wanders  he  Avithout  a  home  ? 

"  Does  no  God  compassion  feel  ? 

Will  none  of  the  blissful  race. 
With  an  arm  of  mii'acle, 

Raise  him  from  his  deep  disgrace  ? 
In  the  heights  A\here  rapture  reigns 

Pangs  of  others  ne'er  can  move  ; 
Yet  man's  anguish  and  man's  pains 

My  tormented  heart  must  prove. 

"  So  that  a  man  a  man  may  be, 

Let  him  make  an  endless  bond 
With  the  kind  earth  trustingly. 

Who  is  ever  good  and  fond — 
To  revere  the  laAv  of  time. 

And  the  moon's  melodious  song, 
Wlio,  A\ith  silent  step  sublime, 

Move  their  sacred  course  along. " 

And  she  softly  parts  the  cloud 

That  conceals  her  from  the  sight ; 
Sudden,  in  the  savage  crowd. 

Stands  she,  as  a  Goddess  bright 


182  THE  ELECSINIA:^  FESTIYAIi, 

There  she  finds  the  concourse  rude 
In  their  glad  feast  revelling, 

And  the  chalice  fill'd  ^\ith  blood 
As  a  sacrifice  they  bring. 

But  she  turns  her  face  away, 

Horror-stmck,  and  speaks  the  while  : 
"  Bloody  tiger-feasts  ne'er  may 

Of  a  God  the  lips  defile. 
He  needs  victims  free  from  stain, 

Fruits  niatur'd  by  Autumn's  sun  ; 
With  the  pure  gifts  of  the  plain 

Honor'd  is  the  Holy  One  ! " 

And  she  takes  the  heavy  shaft 

From  the  hunter's  cruel  hand  ; 
With  the  murd'rous  w^eapon's  haft 

Furrowing  the  light-strown  sand,— 
Takes  from  out  her  garland's  crown, 

Fill'd  with  life,  one  suigle  grain,— 
Sinks  it  in  the  furrow  down, 

And  the  germ  soon  swells  amain. 

And  the  green  stalks  gracefully 

Shoot,  ere  long,  the  ground  above. 
And,  as  far  as  eye  can  see, 

Waves  it  like  a  golden  grove. 
With  her  smile  the  earth  she  cheers, 

Binds  the  earliest  slieaves  so  fair, 
As  her  heart  the  landmark  rears,—' 

And  the  Goddess  breathes  tliis  prayer  ; 

"Father  Zeus,  who  reign'st  o'er  all 

That  in  iEther's  mansions  dwell, 
Let  a  sign  from  thee  now  fall 

That  thou  lov'st  this  off 'ring  well ! 
And  from  the  imhapi^y  crowd 

That,  as  yet,  has  ne'er  knoAvn  thee, 
Take  away  the  eye's  dark  cloud, 

Showing  them  then-  Deity  ! " 

Zeus,  upon  his  lofty  throne. 
Hearkens  to  his  sister's  jsrayer ; 

From  the  blue  heights  thmid''ring  down, 
Hurls  his  forked  lightning  there. 


(THE  ELEUSINLVN   FESTIVAL.  133 

Crackliiip:,  it  begins  to  blazo, 

From  tlio  iiKur  -^vhirliiif^  Ixmmis, — 
Aiul  liis  swift  \viiigM  eagle  pluys 

High  above  in  circliug  rouuiLs. 

Soon  at  the  feet  of  their  mistress  are  kneeling, 

rurd  -with  emotion,  the  raptiu-oiis  throng  ; 
Into  hnmaiiity's  earhest  feehng 

Melt  their  rude  spirits,  nntutor'tl  and  strong. 
Each  bloody  weapon  beiiiiid  them  tlu-y  leave, 

Kays  on  tiieir  senses  beclouded  soon  shine, 
And  from  the  mouth  of  the  Queen  they  receive. 

Gladly  and  meekly,  instmctiou  divine. 

All  the  Deities  advance 

Downwards  from  their  heav'nly  seats  ; 
Themis'  self  'tis  leads  the  dance. 

And,  with  staft"  of  justice,  metes 
Unto  ev'ry  one  his  rights, — . 

Landmai'ks,  too,  'tis  hers  to  fix ; 
And  in  witness  she  invites 

All  the  hidden  powers  of  Styx. 

And  the  Forge-God,  too,  is  there, 

The  inventive  Sou  of  Zeus  ; 
Fa:^;luoner  of  vessels  fair 

Skill'd  in  clay  and  brass's  use, 
'TIS  from  him  the  art  niixn  knows 

Tongs  and  ])ello\\s  how  to  wield ; 
'Neath  his  haunner's  heavy  blows 

Was  the  ploughshare  fii'st  reveal'd. 

With  projecting,  weighty  spear, 

Front  of  all,  Minerva  stands, 
Lifts  her  voice  so  strong  and  clear. 

And  the  Godlike  host  commands, 
Steailfast  walls  'ti.;  hers  to  found, 

Shield  and  screen  for  ev'ry  one. 
That  the  scatter'd  world  around 

Bind  in  loving  unison. 


o 


The  Immortals'  steps  she  guides 
O'er  the  trackless  plains  so  vast. 

And  where'er  her  foot  abides 
Is  the  Bouudiiry  God  held  fast  • 


184  (THB  ELEUSIKIAK  fESTlVAt. 

And  her  measuring  chain  is  led 

Round  the  mountain's  border  greeu,- 

E'eu  tlie  raging  torrent's  bed 
In  the  holy  ring  is  seen. 


All  the  Nymphs  and  Oreads  too 

Who,  the  moiuitain  pathways  o'er, 
Swift-foot  Artemis  pursue, 

All,  to  swell  the  concourse,  pour, 
Brandishing  the  hunting-spear, — 

Set  to  work, — glad  shouts  uprise,— 
'Neath  their  axes'  blows  so  clear 

Crashuig  down  the  piue-wood  flies. 


E'en  the  sedge-crown'd  God  ascends 

From  his  verdant  spring  to  light, 
And  his  raft's  direction  bends 

At  the  Goddess'  word  of  might, — 
Wliile  the  Hours,  ail-gently  bound, 

Nimbly  to  their  duty  fly ; 
Rugged  trunks  are  fashion'd  round 

By  her  skill'd  hand  gracefully. 


E'en  the  Sea-God  thither  fares ; — 
Sudden,  with  his  trident's  blow, 

He  the  granite  columns  tears 

From  earth's  entrails  far  below  ; — 

In  his  mighty  hands,  on  high. 

Waves  he  them,  like  some  light  ball 

And,  with  Nimble  Hermes  by 
,  Raises  up  the  rampart-wall. 


But  from  out  the  golden  strmgs 

Lures  Apollo  harmony, 
Measm-'d  time's  s^vevt  murmurings. 

And  the  might  of  melody. 
The  Camense  swell  the  strain 

With  th(>ir  song  of  ninefold  tone : 
Captive  bound  hi  music's  chaiu, 

Softly  stone  unites  to  stoue. 


THE  rLEUSINIAJf  FESTTVAIi.  186 

Cybfle,  Avitii  sldllful  hiiiul, 

Open  tlirows  tli(3  AvidL'-wiii^^M  door; 
Locks  and  bolts  by  lur  are  ijlaim'd, 

SiU'o  to  lust  t'oreveviuoiv. 
Soon  complrte  the  Avoiidrous  halls 

By  the  God's  own  lumds  are  made, 
x\iul  the  tt'nii)le's  glowing  walls 

btaiid  in  I'cstal  i>omp  array'd. 

With  a  crown  of  myrtle  twin'd, 

^«o^T  the  Goddess-Qneen  ct)mes  there, 
And  she  leads  the  fairest  hind 

To  the  Khepherdess  most  fair. 
Venns,  with  her  beauteous  boy, 

That  first  jiair  herself  attires  ; 
All  the  Gods  bring  gifts  of  joy, 

i31essing  their  love's  sacred  fires. 

Guided  l)y  the  Deities, 

Soon  the  iie\\-born  townsmen  ponr 
Usher'd  in  with  harmonies, 

Throiigh  the  friendly  open  door. 
Holding  now  the  rites  divine, 

Ceres  at  Zens'  altar  stands, — 
"Blessing  those  aronnd  the  shrine. 

Thus  she  speaks,  with  folded  hands  : — 

"  Freedom's  love  the  beast  inflames, 

And  the  God  rules  free  in  air. 
While  the  law  of  Nature  tames 

Each  w:Ud  lust  tliat  lingers  there. 
Yet,  Avhen  thus  together  thrown, 

INIan  with  man  must  fain  unite  ; 
A.nd  by  his  own  worth  alone 

Can  he  freedom  gain,  and  might." 

Wreathe  in  a  garland  the  corn's  golden  ear  ! 

With  it,  the  Cyane  blue  intertwine  ! 
Hapture  must  render  each  glance  bright  and  clear. 

For  the  great  Queen  is  approaching  her  shrine, — 
She  who  our  homesteads  so  l)lissful  has  given. 

She  who  has  man  to  his  fellow-man  be)und. 
Let  oiu'  glad  numbers  extol,  then,  to  Heaven 

Her  who  the  Eai-th's  kindly  mother  is  found  I 


186 

THE  RING  OF  POLVC RATES* 

A  BALLAD. 

Upon  his  battlements  he  stood, 

And  downward  gaz'd,  in  joyous  mood, 

On  Samos'  Isle,  that  own'd  his  sway, 
"  All  this  is  subject  to  my  yoke," 
To  Egypt's  monarch  thus  he  spoke, — 

"  That  I  am  truly  blest,  then,  say  !  " 

"  The  Immortals'  favor  thou  hast  known ! 
Thy  sceptre's  might  has  overthrown 

All  those  who  once  were  like  to  thee, 
Yet  to  avenge  them,  07ie  hves  still ; 
I  cannot  call  thee  blest,  until 

That  dreaded  foe  has  ceas'd  to  be. " 

"While  to  these  words  the  King  gave  vent, 
A  herald,  from  Miletus  sent, 

Appeai-'d  before  the  Tyi'ant  there  : 
"Lord,  let  thy  incense  rise  to-day. 
And  \\  ith  the  laurel's  branches  gay 

Thou  well  may'st  crown  thy  festive  hair  ! 

"  Thy  foe  has  sunk  beneath  the  si)eai', — 
I'm  sent  so  bring  the  glad  news  here. 

By  thy  true  marsh 
Then  from  a  basin  black  he  takes — 
The  fearful  sight  their  terror  wakes — 

A  well-known  headj  besmear'd  with  gore. 

The  King  ■v\ith  horror  stcpp'd  aside, 
And  then,  "with  anxious  look,  replied  : 

"  Thy  bhss  to  fortune  ne'er  commit. 
On  faithless  waves,  bethink  th<H^  how 
Thy  fleet  with  doubtful  fa-to  swims  now — 
How  soon  the  storm  may  scatter  it !  " 

And  ere  he  yet  had  spoke  the  word, 
A  shout  of  jubilee  is  heard 

Resoundhig  from  the  distant  strand. 

♦  For  this  glory,  Bee  Herodotus,  buok  lii,  pections  i^fS. 


THE   RTNO   OP   POLTCKATES.  137 

"With  foreign  treasures  teeming  o'er, 
The  vessels'  nia-st-rich  wood  once  more 
Rotun.s  Lome  to  its  luitivc  land. 

The  gnest  then  speaks  -with  startled  mind  : 
"Fortune  to-day,  in  truth,  seems  kind  ; 

But  thou  her  tickleiuss  slionldst,  iV-ar  r 
The  Cretan  hordes,  well  skill'd  in  arms, 
Now  threaten  thee  with  a\  ar's  alarms  ; 

E'en  now  they  are  approaching  here." 

And,  ere  the  word  has  'scap'd  his  lips, 
A  stir  is  seen  amongst  the  shi]3s. 

And  thousand  voices  "Victory  ! "  cry  ; 
""We  are  deliver'd  from  our  foe, 
The  storm  has  laid  the  Cretan  low. 

The  war  is  ended,  is  gone  by  ! " 

The  shout  with  horror  hears  the  guest : 
"  In  truth,  I  must  esteem  thee  blest ! 

Yet  di'ead  I  the  decrees  of  Heaven. 
The  envy  of  the  Gods  I  fear  ; 
To  taste  of  unmix'd  rapture  here 

Is  never  to  a  mortal  given. 

"  "With  me.  too,  everything  succeeds  ; 
In  all  my  sovereign  acts  and  deeds 

The  grace  of  Heaven  is  ever  by ; 
And  yet  I  had  a  wt  11-lov'd  heir — 
I  paid  my  debt  to  fortune  there, — 

God  took  him  hence — I  saw  him  die. 

"  Wouldst  thou  from  sorrow,  then,  be  free^ 
Pray  to  each  unseen  Deity, 

F*)r  thy  well-being,  grief  to  send ; 
The  man  on  A\liom  the  Gods  l)estow 
Their  gifts  with  har.ds  tliat  overflow, 

Comes  never  to  a  happy  end. 

"  And  if  the  Gods  thy  prayer  resist, 
Then  to  a  friend's  instruction  list, — 
Invoke  Utijuclf  adversity ; 


l38  THE   CKANES   OP  IBYCUS. 

And  what,  of  all  tliy  treasures  bright. 
Gives  to  thy  heart  the  most  delight — 

That  take  and  cast  thou  in  the  sea  1** 

Then  speaks  the  other,  mov'd  by  fear  : 
•'  This  rmg  to  nie  is  far  most  dear 

Of  all  this  Isle  -nithin  it  knows — 
I  to  the  Furies  pledge  it  now. 
If  they  will  happiness  allow  " — 

And  in  the  flood  the  gem  he  throws. 

And  with  the  morrow's  earliest  light 
Appear'd  before  the  monarch's  sight 

A  Fisherman,  all  joyously ; 
"  Lord,  I  this  fish  just  now  have  caught. 
No  net  before  e'er  held  the  sort ; 

And  as  a  gift  I  brmg  it  thee." 

The  fish  was  opened  by  the  cook, 
Who  suddenly,  with  wond'ring  look, 

Euns  up,  and  utters  these  glad  sounds  : 
"  Within  the  fish's  maw,  behold, 
I've  found,  great  Lord,  thy  ring  of  Gold  ! 

Thy  fortune  truly  knows  no  bounds  1" 

The  guest  with  terror  turn'd  away  : 
"  I  cannot  here,  then,  longer  stay, — 

My  friend  thou  canst  no  longer  be  ! 
The  Gods  have  will'd  that  thou  shouldst  die  : 
Lest  I,  too,  laerish,  I  must  fly  " — 

He  sjjoke  — and  sail'd  thence  hastily. 


THE  CRANES  OF  IBYCUS. 

A  BAJjLAX). 

Once  to  the  Song  and  Chariot-fight, 
Wliere  all  the  tribes  of  Greece  unite 
On  Corinth's  Isthmus  joyously. 
The  God-lov'd  I!)ycus  di-ew  nigh, 
Ou  him  Apollo  had  bestow'd 


(THE  CRAKES  OP  IBYCOd. 

The  c^ift  of  sonpr  and  strninB  inspir'd  ; 
So,  wiUi  lif::bt,  stfift;  he  took  his  roiul 
From  Rliegium,  by  the  GocUieacl  fir'd. 

Atrocorinth,  on  mountain  high, 
NoAV  bursts  upon  tlie  AViiiidorer's  eye, 
And  he  begins,  ^vitll  pious  dread, 
Poseidon's  grove  of  lirs  to  tread. 
Naught  moves  around  him,  save  a  swarm 

Of  Cranes,  wlio  guide  him  on  his  way  ; 
Wlio  from  far  southern  regions  warm 

Have  hither  come  in  squadron  grey. 

"  Thou  friendly  band,  all  hail  to  thee  ! 
Who  ledst  me  safely  o'er  tire  sea  ! 
I  deem  thee  as  a  favoring  sign, — 
My  destiny  resembles  thine. 
Both  come  from  a  far  distant  coast, 

Both  pray  for  some  kind  shelt'ring  j)lace  ;■ 
Propitious  itow'rd^us  be  the  host 

Wlio  from  the  stranger  wards  disgrace  1 " 

And  on  he  hastes,  in  joyous  mood, 
And  reaches  soon  the  middle  wood 

When,  on  a  narrow  bridge,  by  force 

Two  murderers  sudden  l)ar  his  course. 

He  must  prei)are  him  for  the  fray. 
But  soon  his  Avearied  hand  sinks  low ; 

Inur'd  the  gentle  lyre  to  play, 
It  ne'er  has  strung  the  deadly  bow. 

On  Gods  and  men  for  aid  he  cries, — 
No  saviour  to  his  prayer  reijlies  ; 
However  far  his  voice  he  sends, 
Naught  liviug  to  his  cry  attends. 
"  And  must  1  in  a  foreign  land. 

Unwept,  desert<'d  iK'rish  here, 
Falling  l)eneath  a  murderous  hand. 

Where  no  avenger  can  appear  ?  " 

Deep-wouudcnl,  down  he  sinks  at  last. 
When,  lo  !  tlu^  CraiK^s'  wings  rustle  past. 
Ho  hears, — though  he  no  more  can  see, — 
Their  voices  screaming  fearfully. 


m 


140  TnE  CEANES  OS*  ■iBlfCt'&. 

"  By  you,  ye  Cranes,  that  soar  on  high, 

If  not  another  voice  is  heard, 
Be  borne  to  Heaven  my  murder-cry  !  " 

He  speaks,  and  dies,  too,  with  the  "wor<| 

The  naked  corpse,  ere  long  is  foiuid, 
And,  though  defac'd  by  many  a  woun^ 

His  host  in  Corinth  soon  could  tell 

The  features  that  he  lov'd  so  Avell. 

"  And  is  it  thus  I  find  thee  now, 
^^^lo  hop'd  the  pine's  victorious  cv^AiX 

To  place  upon  the  Singer's  brow, 
Hlumin'd  by  his  bright  renown?' 

The  news  is  heard  with  grief  by  ali 
IMet  at  Poseidon's  festival  ; 
All  Greece  is  conscious  of  tlie  smart, — 
He  leaves  a  void  in  every  he  art ; 
And  to  the  Prytanis  *  swift  hie 

The  people,  and  they  urge  Jiim  on 
The  dead  man's  manes  to  pacify. 

And  with  the  murderer's  blood  atone. 

But  where's  the  trace  that,  from  the  throng, 
The  people's  streaming  crowds  among, 
Allur'd  there  by  the  sports  so  bright, 
Can  bring  the  villain  black  to  light  ? 
By  craven  robbers  was  he  slain  ? 

Or  by  some  envious  hidden  foe  ? 
That  Helios  only  ^an  explain. 

Whose  rays  iiiume  all  things  below. 

Perchance,  with  shameless  step  and  proud,. 
He  threads  e'en  now  the  Grecian  crowd, — ■ 
Wliilst  vengeance  follows  in  pursuit, 
Gloats  over  his  transgression's  fruit. 
The  very  Gods  perchance  he  braves 

Upon  the  tlireshold  of  their  fane, — 
Joins  l)oldly  in  tlie  human  waves 

That  haste  yon  theatre  to  gain. 


•  PiCbidcut  of  the  Council  of  Five  iluud  ed- 


THE    CRANES   OF   IBtCTrS.  H' 

i'or  there  the  Grecian  tribes  appear, 
la  t  pouiing  in  f.vom  tar  ami  near  ; 
On  closo-pack'd  benches  sit  they  there.— 
The  stago  the  weight  can  scarcely  bear. 
i*i£C  orean-biilcws;'  hollow  roar, 

Ih3  teeming  crowds  of  livinp  man 
r^'ro.  the  cemlean  iiea-^sn~  upso  r, 

ta  bow  of  ev:.r  v,i  xening  pan. 

♦V!".  .c  knows  the  nation ,  who  the  name, 
0."  ai'i  who  there  bogether  came? 
irom  Thescns'  iown,  from  Aulis'  strand, 
From  Phocis,  fi-om  the  Spartan  liuul. 
From  Asia's  distant  coiist  they  wend, 

J'rom  ev'ry  island  of.  the  sea, 
^nd  from  the  stage  they  hear  ascend 

The  Chorns's  dread  melody. 

Who,  sad  and  solemn,  as  of  old, 
With  footstep  measur'd  and  controU'd, 
Advancing  from  the  fur  back  ground, 
Circle  the  theatre's  wide  roiind. 
Thus,  mortal  women  never  move ! 

No  mortal  home  to  these  gave  birth ! 
Their  gisnt  l)odies  tower  above, 

High  o'fT  the  ininy  sons  of  earth. 

With  loins  in  mantle  black  conceaTd, 
Within  their  llesliless  hand--,  taey  wield 
The  torch,  that  with  a  cu.-:'  .-3d  glows, — 
While  in  their  cheek  no  lite  iicod  flows  J 
And  where  the  hair  is  floatin,?  wide 

And  loving,  round  a  mortal  brow, 
Here,  snakes  and  adders  are  descried. 

Whose  bellies  swell  Avith  poison  now. 

And,  standing  in  a  fearful  :.'ing, 
The  dread  and  solemn  chimt  they  sing, 
That  through  Mie  bosom  :;hrilling  goes. 
And  round  the  sinner  fetters  throws. 
Benae-robbing,  of  heart-madd'ning  power, 
The  Furies'  strains  rescmnd  through  aif 
The  list'uer's  marrow  they  d(  vour, — 
The  lyre  can  yield  such  numbers  ne'er. 


142  THE   CEANES   OF   IBT0U8. 

'■*  Happy  the  mart  who,  blemish-free, 
Preserves  a  soul  of  purity ! 
Near  him  we  db  er  avenging  come, 
He  freely  o'er  life's  path  may  roam, 
Buu  woe  to  him  who,  hid  from  vieWj 

Hath  done  the  deed  of  murder  base  I 
Upon  jQi    heels  we  close  pursue,— 

Wo,  who  belong  to  Night's  dark  race  ^ 

'*  Ati  it'  he  thinks  to  'scape  by  flighty 
Wing  d  we  appear,  our  snare  of  might 
Around  his  flying  feet  to  cast, 
So  tha ':  he  needs  must  fall  at  last. 
Thus  ve  pursue  him.  tkiug  ne'er— 

O'lr  wrath  repentance  cannot  quell, — ' 
On  to  the  shadows,  and  e'en  there 

We  leave  him  not  ia  peace  to  dwell  J " 

Thus  singing;  they  the  df.nce  resume, 
And  silence,  uke  that  ot  the  tomb, 
O    r  t\.  whole  house  lies  heavily, 
As  if  ti;  Deity  were  nigh. 
And,  staid  and  solemn,  as  of  old, 

Oircling  the  theatre's  wide  round, 
Wi-b  footstep  measur'd  and  controll'd, 

Ll  jy  vanish  in  the  far  back-ground. 

Bet'v:'een  deceit  and  truth  e  ch  breast, 
1,  ow  doubting  hangs,  by  aw :-  possess'd. 
And  homage  pays  to  that  dread  might, 
That  nidges  what  is  hid  froia  sight, — 
That,  f-ithomless,  inscrutable. 

The  gloomy  skeui  of  fate  entwines, 
That  reads  the  bosom's  depths  full  well. 

Yet  flies  away  where  sunlight  shines. 

Wlien  sudden,  from  the  tier  most  high, 

A  voice  is  heard  by  all  to  cry  : 

"  See  there,  £iee  there,  Timotheus  ! 

Behold  the  Cranes  of  Ibycus  ! " 

The  Heavens  become  as  black  as  nigbt. 

And  o'er  the  theatre  they  see, 
Far  o-ver-head,  a  dusky  flight 

Of  Cranes,  approaching  iiastiijc 


*ai2tO  AND  LEAND£», 

'-  Of  Ibycus  I  "— lliat  name  so  blest 
V/ith  new-boiii  sorrow  fills  each  breas: 
As  wave*  on  waves  in  ocean  rise, 
7"om  montli  tc  mouth  it  swiftly  flies  : 

Of  Ibycus,  whom  we  lament  ? 

Y<fh.c  fell  beneatli  the  murderer's  hand? 
What  mean  those  words  that  from  him  went  ? 

Wliat  means  this  Cranes'  advancing  baud?* 

And  lo-adev  still  become  the  cries, 
And  800U  this  thought  foreboding  flies 
Through  ev'rj'  heart,  with  speed  of  l-ght-- 
"  Observ,  in  'Jiis  the  Furies'  migiit ! 
The  poe!"  maues  are  now  ajipeas'd  i 
^  'j-.he  murderer  seeks  his  own  arrest  ] 
Let  him  who  spoke  the  word  be  seiz'd 
And  him  to  wliom  it  was  address'd  i  " 

That  word  ho  had  no  sooner  spoke, 
Than  he  its  souuc.  would  fain  revoke ; 
In  \am  !  his  mouth,  with  terror  palcj 
Tells  of  his  guilt  the  fearful  tale. 
Beiorc  the  Judge  they  drag  them  now, 

The  scene  becomes  the  tribunal ; 
Q-Jaeir  cnmes  the  villains  both  avow. 

When  'neath  the  vengeance  stroke  they  fall 


HBRO  AND  LEANOER 

Sbest  thou  yonder  castles  grey, 
Gixtt'rmg  in  the  sun's  bright  ray. 

That  arise  on  either  side, 
Where  the  Hellespont  impels 
Through  the  rockj'  Dardanelles 

Ceaselessly  his  angry  tide  J 
Hear'st  thou  yonder  billows  roar. 

As  against  tiie  cliffs  they  break? 
Asia  they  from  Europe  tore — 

Love  alone  they  ne'er  could  shaka 


{4A  HERO   AND   LEANDfik 

Hero  rnd  Leander's  hearts 

With  his  fierce  but  pleasing  smarte 

Cupid's  might  immortal  mov'd. 
Hero  rivaird  Hebe's  grace, 
"While  Leauder,  in  the  chase, 

O'er  the  mouutaias  boldly  rov'd. 
But,  ere  long,  parental  wrath 

Sever'd  the  united  pair, 
And  the  fruit  by  ove  brjught  forth 

Huug  in  mournfu^  peril  there. 

See,  oi  Se  tus'  rocky  tower 

'Gamst  whose  bas^  with  ceaseless  poi?e^. 

Hellespont's  wild  waters  foam. 
Sits  the  maid,  in  sorrow  lost. 
Looking  tow  rd  Abydos'  coast, 

Yfhere  the  lov'd  one  has  his  home. 
Ah,  to  that  far-distant  strand 

Bridge  there  was  not  to  convey,— 
Hot  a  bark  was  near  at  hand, 

Yet  true  love  soon  found  the  way. 

In  the  labyrinthine  maze 
Love  a  certain  chie  cau  raise, 

E'en  the  foolish  makes  he  wise,— 
Makes  the  savage  m(mster  bow, — 
To  the  adamantine  plough 

Yokes  the  steers  with  tiaming  eyes. 
Styx,  whose  waters  nine  times  How, 

Cannot  bar  his  daring  course  ; 
For  from  Pluto's  house  of  woe 

Orpheus'  bride  he  tore  by  force. 

Even  through  the  boiling  tide 
He  Leander's  mind  supphed 

Witli  deep  longing's  glowing  spark. 
When  grev/  pale  the  glitt'rmg  day, 
Took  the  swimmer  bold  his  wny 

O'er  the  Pontine  ocean  dark  ; 
Cleft  the  waves  with  mighty  power, 

Striving  for  you  strand  so  dear, 
Where,  uprais'd  on  lofty  tower, 

Sboue  the  torch's  radiance  clegj;. 


S^ltO   AND  I.KAS'Dfift.  145 

Circled  in  her  loviiig  nniis, 
So'ni  the  glatl  Lcuudcr  warms 

From  tlie  ■weary  jouniey  past. 
And  receives  tlie  godlike  prize 
That  in  her  embraces  lies 

As  his  bright  reward  at  last ; 
Till  Anrora  once  again 

Wakes  him  from  his  ^^sion  blesfc, 
He  must  tempt  the  briny  main, 

Driven  from  love's  gentle  breast. 

Thirty  suns  had  sped  like  this 
In  the  joys  of  stolen  bliss 

Swiftly  o'er  the  happy  jjair, 
As  a  bridal  night  of  love, 
Worthy  e'en  the  Gods  above. 

Ever  yonng  and  ever  fair. 
Kapture  true  he  ne'er  can  know, 

Who  with  daring  hand  has  never 
Pliick'd  the  Heavenly  fruits  that  grow 

Ou  the  brink  of  Hell's  dark  river. 

Hesper  and  Aurora  bright 

Each,  in  turns,  put  forth  their  light, 

Yet  the  happy  ones  saw  not 
How  the  leaves  began  to  fall, — 
How  from  Northern  icy  hall 

Winter  fierce  approach'd  the  spot. 
Joyfully  they  saw  each  day 

More  and  more  its  span  reduce  ; 
For  the  night's  uow-leugtheu'd  sway, 

In  their  madness,  bless'd  they  ZeiiSo 


Nicely-balanced  day  and  night. 
Held  the  scales  of  Heaven  aright, — 

From  the  tower,  with  pensive  eye, 
Gaz'd  tlu!  gentle  maid  alone 
Ou  the  coursers  of  the  sun. 

Hastening  downwards  through  the  sky 
Still  and  calm  the  ocean  lay, 

Like  a  pure,  unsullied  glass,— 
!  .Tot  a  zepliyr  sought,  in  play, 

O'er  the  crystal  Hood  to  pass. 


[,t6  fifiEO  AND  XiEAHDEK. 

Dolpliiu-slioals,  iu  joyoua  motion 
Through  the  clear  and  silv'ry  oceaHs 

Wanton'd  its  cool  waves  among  ; 
And,  in  darkly-vestnr'd  train, 
From  the  bosom  of  the  main 
•  Tethys'  varied  band  tipsprung. 

None  but  they  e'er  saw  reveal'd 

Those  fond  lovers'  blest  delight: 
But  their  silent  lips  were  seal'd 

Evermore  by  Hecate's  might. 

Gladly  on  the  smiling  sea 
Gaz'd  she,  and  caressingly 

To  the  element  exclaim'd  : 
•'Lovely  God,  canst  thou  deceive? 
Ne'er  the  traitor  I'll  believe. 

Who  thee  false  and  faithless  nam  d., 
Treach'rous  is  the  human  race. 

Cruel  is  my  father's  heart ; 
Thou  art  mild  and  full  of  grace. 

And  art  mov'd  by  love's  soft  smart, 

"In  these  desert  walls  of  stone 
I  had  mourn'd  in  grief  alone, 

Piu'd  in  sorrow  without  end. 
If  thou,  on  thy  crested  ridge, 
Aided  by  no  bark,  no  bridge, 

Hadst  not  hither  borne  my  friend. 
Dreaded  though  thy  depths  may  be, 

Fierce  the  fury  of  thy  wave. 
Love  can  ever  soften  thee. 

Thou  art  vanquish'd  by  the  brave. 

"For  the  mighty  dart  of  Love 
jE'en  the  Ocean  God  could  move. 

When  the  golden  ram  of  yore, 
Helle,  cloth'd  in  beauty  bright. 
With  her  brother  in  her  flight, 

Over  thy  deep  billows  bore — 
Sudden,  vanquish'd  by  her  charms, 

Starting  from  the  whirlpool  blackj 
Thou  didst  bear  her  iu  tliino  arms 

To  thy  realms  from  off  his  back. 


HERO   AXl)   LEANDER.  lij 

Ab  a  Goddoss. — liappy  lot  !—- 
in  the  doop  and  Avut'iy  grot, 

Evermore  she  now  resides ; 
Hapless  lovers'  cares  disjJels, 
All  thy  raging  passions  quells, 

into  port  the  sailor  guides. 
Beauteous  Hello,  Goddess  fair, 

Blessed  one,  to  thee  I  pray  ; 
Safely  triistiug  to  thy  care. 

Hither  bring  my  love  to-day !  ' 

Dark  the  waters  soon  became, 
And  eho  wav'd  the  torch's  flame 

From  the  lofty  balcony. 
That  the  wanderer  belov'd, 
As  across  the  deeps  he  rov'd, 

Might  the  trusty  signal  see. 
Howling  blast  ap]n-oach'd  from  far, 

Gloomier  still  tlie  billows  eurl'd, 
Quench 'd  was  ev'ry  glimm'riug  star, 

And  the  storm  its  might  unfurl 'd. 


Oyer  Pontus'  boundless  plain 
Night  now  spreads,  while  heavy  rain 

Pours  in  torrents  from  each  cloud  ; 
Lightning  quivers  through  the  ail-, 
While  from  out  its  rocky  lair 

Bursts  the  temjjest  fierce  and  loud. 
In  the  waters,  as  they  yell, 

Fearful  chasms  are  expos'd  ; 
Gaping,  like  the  jaws  of  Hell 

Are  the  ocean-depths  disclos'd. 


"Woe,  oh,  woe!"  she  weepiug  crieSj 
"  Mighty  Zeus,  regard  my  sighs  ! 

Ah,  how  rasli  the  boon  I  crav'd  ! 
If  the  Gods  gave  ear  to  me, 
If  within  the  treach'rous  sea. 

Ho  the  raging  storm  has  brav'd  ! 
Ev'ry  bird  that  loves  the  tide 

Homeward  swiftly  wings  its  way  5 
Ev'ry  shij^,  in  tempest  tried, 

Bef uge  seeks  in  shelt'riug  buy. 


148  Hero  axd  leander. 

*  Doubtless,  all !  the  dauntless  one 
Has  his  daring  task  begtm, 

Urg'd  by  the  great  Deity ; 
Wlien  departing,  he  his  troth 
Pledg'd  with  Love's  mop t  sacred  oath  j 

Death  alone  <ian  set  him  free. 
He,  alas,  this  very  hovir, 

Wrestles  -with  tlie  tempest's  gloom  ; 
And  the  madden'd  Kllov/s'  power 

Bears  him  downwards  to  their  womb 

"  Pontiis  false  I— thy  seeming  calm 
Serv'd  suspicion  to  disarm  ; 

Thou  wert  like  a  spotless  glf,ss; 
Basely  smooth  thy  waters  lay. 
That  they  might  my  love  betvay 

Into  thy  false  realms  to  pi'i3 
In  thy  middle  current  now, 

Where  no  hopes  of  refugf.  ''lin. 
On  the  hapless  victim  thou 

Let'st  thy  fearful  terroir^  Zy  ! ' 


I  >» 


Fiercer  grows  the  irnvye/i's  might. 
Leaping  up  to  aio?\nti»j'j -height 

Swells  the  sea, — the,  oillows  roar 
'Gainst  tlie  cliffs  with  fury  mad ;  ■ 
^'en  the  shiji  with  odi  beclad 

Breaks  to  pieceg  on  the  shore. 
And  the  wind  yv.h  out  the  blaze 

That  had  «erv'd  to  light  the  track  | 
Terror  round  tho  landing  plays, 

Terror  in  tr.e  waters  black. 

Tenus  she  Jmplores  to  chain 
The  tempestuous  hurricane. 

And  the  an^ry  waves  to  bind ; 
A.nd  a  steer  with  golden  horn 
Tows  the  maid,  by  anguish  torn, 

As  a  victim  to  each  wind. 
tJv'ry  Goddess  of  tlie  deep, 
•     Ev'ry  heavenly  Deity, 
Bhe  implores  to  lull  to  sleep 

With  smooth  oil  the  raging  sea. 


fiEn6   AND  tiEANDER.  \^ 

"To  my  mournful  cry  attend  1 
Blest  Loucotlioa,  ascend 

Hitlier  froiu  thy  sea-green  bower  I 
Thou  wlio  ofttimes  com'st  to  save 
Wlieii  tlie  fury  of  the  wave 

Throats  the  sailor  to  devour  ! 
O'er  liini  cast  thy  sacred  veil, 

\Miicli,  witli  its  mysterious  charm, 
E'en  wIhmi  iloods  his  life  assail. 

Guards  its  wearer  from  aU.  harm  !  " 


And  the  wild  winds  cease  to  blow, 
Brightly  through  the  Heavens  now  go 

Eos'  coursers,  mi  luntiug  high ; 
Gently  in  its  wouttd  bed 
Flows  the  ocean,  smootldy  spread. 

Sweetly  smile  both  sea  and  sky. 
Softly  now  the  billows  stray 

O'er  the  peaceful,  rock-bound  strancj^^ 
And,  in  calm  and  eddying  i)lay. 

Waft  a  lifeless  coi-pse  to  land. 

Ah,  'tis  he  who,  even  now, 
Keeps  in  death  his  solemn  vow 

In  an  instant  knows  she  him  ; 
Yet  she  utters  not  a  sigli, — 
Not  a  tear  escapes  her  eye, 

Cold  and  rigid  is  each  limb. 
Sadly  looks  she  on  the  light. 

Sadly  on  the  desert  deep  ; 
And  unearthly  Hushes  bright 

O'er  her  pallid  features  creep. 


**  Dreaded  (rods,  I  own  your  force  S 
Fearfully,  without  remorse. 

Ye  have  urg'd  your  rights  divicci. 
Tliough  my  race  is  early  run. 
Yet  I  happiness  have  known, 

And  a  blissful  lot  was  mine. 
Living,  in  thy  temple,  I 

As  a  priestess  deck'tl  my  brow. 
And  a  joyful  victim  die. 

Mighty  Venus,  for  thee  uow!^' 


150  6ASSANDEA. 

And,  -witli  garments  fiutt'ring  round, 
From  the  tower,  -with  maddeo'd  bound, 

Plung'd  she  iu  the  distant  wave. 
High  the  God  through  his  domain 
Bears  those  hallow'd  corjjses  twain, — 

He  himself  becomes  their  gi'ave  ; 
And,  rejoicing  in  his  prize. 

Gladly  on  his  way  he  goes, — 
From  his  urn,  that  never  dries, 

Pours  his  stream,  that  ceaseless  flows. 


CASSANDRA. 

Mirth  the  halls  of  Troy  was  filling, 

Ere  its  lofty  ramj^arts  fell ; 
From  the  golden  lute  so  thrilling 

flymus  of  joy  were  heard  to  swell. 
From  the  sad  and  tearful  slaughter 

All  had  laid  their  arms  aside, 
For  Pelides  Priam's  daughter 

Claim'd  then  as  his  own  fair  bride. 

Laurel  branches  with  them  bearing, 

Troop  on  troop  iu  bright  array 
To  the  temples  were  repairing, 

Owning  Thymbrius'  sov'reign  sway. 
Through  the  streets,  with  frantic  measure^ 

Danced  the  bacchanal  mad  around, 
And,  amid  the  radiant  jileasure, 

Only  one  sad  breast  was  found. 

Joyously  in  the  midst  of  gladness, 

None  to  heed  her,  none  to  love, 
Koam'd  Cassandra,  plung'd  iu  sadness. 

To  Apollo's  laurel  grove. 
To  its  dark  and  deep  recesses 

Swift  the  sorrowing  priestess  hied,. 
And  from  oil"  her  flowing  tresses 

Tore  the  sacred  banii,  and  cried  ? 


CASSAXDP.A.  15] 

"All  around  w\th  joy  is  beaming, 

Ev'iy  bt'art  is  liappy  now, 
Anil  my  sire  is  fondly  diramiiif,', 

Wreath 'd  with  flowers  my  sister's  brow. 
I  alone  am  doom'd  to  wailing, 

That  Rwcot  visi(m  llii-s  from  rae  ; 
In  luy  mind   these  walls  assailing, 

Fierce  destruction  I  can  see. 

"  Thongli  a  torch  I  see  all-glowing, 

Yet  'tis  not  in  Hymen's  hand  ; 
Smoke  across  the  skies  is  blowing, 

Yet  'tis  fiom  no  votive  brand. 
Yonder  see  I  feasts  entrancing, 

But,  in  my  prophetic  soul. 
Hear  I  now  tlie  God  advancing, 

Who  will  steep  in  tears  the  bowl '. 

"And  they  blame  my  lamentation. 

And  they  laugh  my  grief  to  scorn  • 
To  the  haunts  of  desolation 

I  must  bear  my  woes  forlorn. 
All  who  hajjpy  are,  now  shun  me, 

And  my  tears  with  laughter  see ; 
Heavy  li(>s  thy  hand  u^wn  me. 

Cruel  Pythian  Deity ! 

*'  Thy  divine  decrees  foretelling, 

Wherefore  hast  thou  thrown  me  here. 
Wliere  the  ever-blind  are  dwelling. 

With  a  mind,  alas,  too  clear  ? 
Wherefore  hast  thoii  power  thus  given. 

What  must  needs  occur  to  know  ? 
Wrought  must  be  the  will  of  Heavsn — 

Onward  come  the  hour  of  woe  ! 

"  When  impending  fate  strikes  terror, 

Why  remove  the  covering  ? 
Iiifo  we  have  alone  in  erroi*, 

Knowledge  with  it  death  must  bring. 
Take  away  this  prescience  teai'ful, 

Take  tliis  sight  of  woo  from  me  : 
Of  thy  truths,  alas  !  how  fearful 

'Tis  the  mouth-piece  frail  tt>  be  1 


162  CASSANDBA. 

"  Veil  my  mind  once  more  in  slumberSj 

Let  me  heedlessly  rejoice  ; 
Never  have  I  sung  glad  numbers 

Since  I've  been  thy  chosen  voice. 
Kitowleuge  of  the  future  giving, 

Thou  hast  stol'n  the  present  day, 
Stol'n  tlie  momeni's  joyous  living, — 

Take  thy  false  giit,  then,  away  ! 

"  Ne'er  "with  bridal  train  around  me, 

Have  I  wreath'd  my  radiant  brow. 
Since  to  serve  tliy  fane  I  bound  me^ 

Bound  me  with  a  solemn  vow. 
Evermore  in  grief  I  languish — 

All  my  youth  in  tsars  was  spent ; 
And,  with  thoughts  of  bitter  auguisk 

My  too-feeling  heart  is  rent. 

"Joyously  my  friends  are  playing, 

All  around  are  blest  and  glad. 
In  the  paths  of  pleasure  sti-aying, — 

My  poor  heart  alone  is  sad. 
Spring  in  vain  unfohls  each  treasure, 

Filling  all  the  earth  with  bliss  ; 
Wlio  in  life  can  e'er  take  pleasure, 

When  is  seen  its  dark  abyss  ? 

"With  her  heart  in  vision  burning, 

Truly  blest  is  Polyxene, 
As  a  bride  to  clasp  him  yearning. 

Him,  the  noblest,  best  Hellene  ! 
And  Ler  breast  with  rapture  swelling. 

All  its  bliss  can  scarcely  know  ; 
E'en  the  Gods  in  heavenly  dwelling 

Envying  not,  when  dreaming  so. 

"  He  to  whom  my  heart  is  plighted 

Stood  before  my  ravish 'd  eye, 
And  his  look,  by  passion  lighted, 

Tow'rd  me  turu'd  imploringly. 
With  the  lov'd  one,  oh,  how  gfadly 

Homeward  would  I  takfc  my  flight 
But  a  Stygian  shatlow  sadly 

^tej)8  between  us  ev'rj  ui^t. 


THE  HOSTAOE.  153 

"  Cniol  Proserpine  is  pending 

All  her  spectres  pale  to  me  ; 
Ever  on  my  steps  attending 

Those  dread  shadowy  forms  I  see. 
Though  I  seek,  in  mirth  and  laughte» 

Refuge  from  that  ghastly  train, 
Still  I  see  them  hast'ning  after, — 

Ne'er  shall  I  know  joy  again. 


"And  I  see  the  death-steel  glancing, 

And  the  eye  of  murder  glare  ; 
On,  with  hasty  striiles  advancing, 

Terror  haunts  me  ev'rywhere. 
Vain  I  seek  alleviation  ; — 

Knowing,  seeing,  8uft"ring  all, 
I  miist  wait  the  consummation, 

In  a  foreign  land  must  fall." 

"While  her  solemn  words  are  ringing. 

Hark  !  a  dull  and  wailing  tone 
From  the  temple's  gate  upspringing,- 

Dead  lies  Thetis'  mighty  son  ! 
Eris  shakes  hvx  snakt'-loeks  hated. 

Swiftly  Hies  each  Deity, 
And  o'er  Ilion's  walls  ill-fated 

.Thunder-clouds  loom  heavily  I 


THE  HOSTAGE 


A  BALLAD. 

To  the  tyrant  Dionys  Moeros  once  hied, — 

A  dagger  his  mantle  contain'd  ; 

They  seize  him,  and  soon  he  is  chair. 'd, 
""SSIiat  souglit'st  tliou  to  do  w  ith  the  dirk  bj  tby  «id*  ^- 
And  Mceros  with  gloomy  fury  repli^^d  : 

"  The  town  from  the  Tyrant,  t^i  tree  "— 

♦'  'XhQ  cross  thy  j-eraxu  tlieu  shall  be." 


154  THE  HOSTAaE. 

"I  *m..'  'iPic,  ^>.e  rfi-BT,  "  prepar'd  to  die, 

Nor  seek  foi'  ;j'i'raissioii  to  live ; 

fet,  prithee,  tb'.s  one  fiivor  give  : 
k  respite  I  ask  till  ^.iree  days  have  gone  by, 
'/VTiile  the  marrir.pc-iuot  of  ray  sister  I  tie  ; 

I'll  leave  the  j  /jy  friend  as  my  bail,— 

Thou  cauft  eZi  him  instead,  if  I  fail." 

The  monarch  Ihon  f niil'd  -with  a  malice-fraught  sneer. 

And  after  <a  y.iise  answer 'd  he  : 

"  Threj  J-.iyo  i  ^nll  give  unto  thee  ; 
But  know  !  i^  'Jif  o  ad  of  that  time  shall  appear, 
And  thou  'iho'ii  ^I'l  then  have  surreuder'd  thee  here, 

Thy  fri>^uJ  J  J  thy  place  must  then  bleed, 

And  thou  J  "j.  :etui-n,  shall  be  freed." 

And  he  went  t)  his  friend,  and  he  said  :  "  The  king  vowa 

That  I  on  die  cross  must  atone 

For  t-ie  jjipious  thing  I  hava  done  ; 
Arid  yet  no  u  respite  of  threr  days  allows, 
Till  t  r^:^  Pxster  have  join'd  tr  h  r  spouse ; 

As  O'-iil  to  the  king  then  r:main, 

Till  I'm  back  here  to  loose  thee  again ! " 

In  silence  embrac'd  him  his  friend  dear  and  true, 

Eesign'd  to  the  Sovereign',  power  ; 

The  other  went  off  the  same  hour  : 
&.nd  ere  the  third  mornin,';:  had  dawn'd  on  the  view, 
His  trister  he  join'd  to  her  spouse,  and  tlien  Hew 

With  anxious  concern  tow'rd  his  j.ome, 

That  true  to  his  time  he  might  come. 

Soon  the  rain  in  torrents  begins  to  pour, 

The  springs  down  thj  mountain';-'  side  race. 
The  brook  and  the  stream  swell  apace, 
And  ho  comes  with  his  pugrim's  staff  to  the  shore, 
When  the  whirlpool  tears  down  the  bridge  with  wilcl 
roar, 
And  the  waves  with  a  thundering  crash, 
To  atoms  the  vaulted  arch  dash. 

And  he  wanders  along  the  bank  in  despair. 
But  fiir  as  he  casts  round  his  eyes, 
And  far  as  re-fi'Jho  Ki.a  crieB, 


THE   IIOSTAaE.  156 

No  frieTitfly  Imrk  pnsliinpf  olT  lio  sees  thfre. 
By  Avliosfc  iii<l  to  tlie  wi,sl>.'cl  fur  liiuJ  to  reijair, 

None  ooirtiug  its  pilot  to  bo, — 

And  the  toneut  now  swells  to  a  sea. 

Tlien  he  siulcs  ou  the  shore,  and  he  weeps,  atid  ie  P^fty* 

"With  hinids  rais'd  on  lugh  unto  Zi?ii8  : 

"  The  torrent's  wild  I'orco,  oh  rcdijce  ! 
The  hours  haste  on,  and  the  mid-dtiy  rayo 
Of  the  Buu  now  fall,  and  if  qnonch'd  is  their  blaze 

Before  at  tlie  town  I  can  be, 

My  friend  must  then  perish  for  me," 

Yet  the  stream  into  greater  fnry  now  wakes, 

And  billows  ou  billows  dash  high. 

And  hours  on  hours  tleet  by. 
Then  driven  by  anguish,  courage  he  takes. 
And  leaps  in  the  flood  as  it  madly  breaks. 

And  the  torreut  he  cleaves  with  strong  limb, 

And  a  God  has  compassion  on  him. 

And  he  gaius  the  shore,  and  then  onward  he  spee*is> 
And  the  God  who  has  saved  him  he  blesses  ; 
When  out  of  I'le  wood's  dark  recesses 
A  band  of  robbers  sudden  proceeds, 
And  menaces  death,  and  his  progress  impedes. 
Obstructing  the  wanderer's  course, 
And  wielding  the  club  with  wild  force. 

•' Wliat  Avould  ye  ?  '  all  pallid  with  terror  cries  h6^ 
"Save  my  life,  I  have  no  other  thing, 
And  i/inti  must  give  to  the  king  !  " 
And  the  club  from  the  next  ho  tears  hastily: 
"  For  tlia  sake  of  my  friend,  here's  mercy  for  thee  l** 
And  tli]-ee,  with  invincible  might. 
He  slays,  and  the  rest  take  to  tiight.       • 

And  tlie  sun  pours  down  his  hot  beams  on  the  land, 

And,  worn  by  the  toil  he  had  pass'd. 

His  knees  sink  beneath  him  at  last. 
"Oh  !  am  I  then  sav'd  from  the  spoiler's  fierce  Imud, 
And  brought  safe  o'er  the  lioud  to  tlic  holy  straml. 

That  I  here  my  lost  moments  may  see, 

While  the  friend  that  I  love  dies  for  me?" 


156  THE  HOSTAGi. 

And  hark!  close  at  hand,  with  a  purling  sound. 
Comes  a  gush,  and  as  silver  it  glistens; 
And  he  pauses,  and  anxiously  listens  : 
And  lo  !  from  the  cliffs,  with  a  rapid  bound, 
A  murmuring  fountain  leaps  down  to  the  ground, 
And  stooping  to  earth  in  glad  mood, 
He  laves  his  hot  limbs  in  the  flood. 

And  through  the  green  foliage  shines  now  the  81111^ 
And  the  giant-like  shade  of  each  tree 
On  the  glittering  mead  pictures  he ; 
And  he  sees  two  travellers  moving  ou, — 
With  hurried  footstep  seeks  past  them  to  run, 
When  thus  he  o'erhears  their  discourse  : 
•'  Ere  this  he  is  nail'd  to  the  cross  !" 

And  anguish  gives  wings  to  his  hastening  feet, 
That,  goaded  by  care,  seem  to  fly  ; 
Soon  Syracuse  bursts  on  his  eye, 
And  its  battlements  glow  in  the  sunset  sweet, 
And  its  glances  ere  long  Philostratus  meet, 
The  steward  of  his  household  so  tnie, — 
But  he  shudders  his  master  to  view. 

"  Back!  Back!  to  rescue  thy  friend  'tis  too  late  ; 

Thyself,  then,  to  save,  hasten  thou  : 

For  he  suffers  death  even  now. 
From  hour  to  hovir,  with  confidence  great. 
For  thy  return  he  ceas'd  not  to  wait ; 

His  courage  and  faith  were  not  torn 

By  the  Tyr^mt's  contemptuous  scorn." 

"  And  if  'tis  too  late,  and  I  cannot,  then,  now 

Arrive  to  receive  his  last  breath, 

I'll  hasten  to  join  him  in  death. 
Ne'er  the  Ifloodthirsty  Tyrant  to  boast  I'll  allow 
That  the  friend  to  the  friend  hius  broken  his  vow  ; 

When  two  \actims  liave  bitten  the  dust, 

In  Love  and  in  Faith  let  him  trust!  '* 

And  the  sun  sinks  to  rest,  and  he  reaches  the  gate. 
And  the  cross  he  sees  rais'd  from  the  grotmd  ! 
While  the  wondering  crowd  stand  around. 

They  are  hoisting  his  friend  on  the  rope  to  his  fate. 


TITE   DIVER,  157 

VVlirn  thnjupfh  the  dcnso  coucoxirse  lie  pushes  liiin 
straipfht ; 
"Now,  H;i!igni:in  !"  ho  riics,  "strangle  me! 
For  the  one  whom  he  liailM, — I  am  he!  " 

AstonLshment  seizes  on  all  tliat  stand  Ijy, 
While  ionelly  embrace  tlie  glad  twain, 
And  weep  with  mix'd  rapture  and  jiaiu  ; 
And  i\  tear  is  seen  glist'ning  in  ev<  ry  eye, — 
To  the  king  witli  Wxo.  wondrous  story  they  fly, 
And  he,  mov'd  by  a  merciful  thoughv, 
To  the  foot  of  his  throne  has  them  brought;. 

And  on  them  iu  wondermout  long  gazes  he, 
Then  speaJcs  :  "  Ye  the  victory  have  won. 
And  conquer'd  my  heart  for  your  own. 

Tliat  i'uith  is  no  empty  vision  I  see, 

fcjo  sufler  me,  too,  your  companion  to  be  ; 
And  let  my  entreaty  be  heard, 
To  form  iu  your  friendship  the  third  1 " 


THE  DIVER. 


A   BALLAD. 

*'  "Wliat  knight  or  what  vassal  will  be  so  bold 

As  to  plunge  iu  the  gulf  below? 
See  !  I  hurl  iu  its  depths  a  goblet  of  gold. 

Already  the  waters  ovir  it  flow. 
The  man  who  can  bring  l)ack  the  goblet  to  me, 
May  keep  it  henceforward, — his  own  it  shall  be. 

Thus  speaks  the  King,  and  he  hurls  from  the  height 

Of  the  cliffs  that,  rugged  and  steep, 
Hang  over  the  ))oundle8s  sea,  witli  strong  might, 

The  goblet  afar  iu  tlie  bellowing  deep. 
"And  who'll  be  so  daring, — I  ask  it  once  more,— . 
As  to  plunge  in  these  billows  that  mldly  roar?" 

And  the  vassals  and  knights  of  high  degree 

Hear  his  words,  but  sileut  remain. 
They  cast  their  eyes  on  the  ragiug  sea. 


158  THE  DIVER. 

Aud  uonfc  will  attempt  tlie  goblet  to  gain. 
And  a  third  time  the  question  is  ask'd  by  the  King  , 
'•  Is  there  none  that  will  dare  in  the  gulf  now  to  spring?* 

Yet  all  as  before  in  silence  stand, 

When  a  page,  with  a  modest  pride, 
Steps  out  of  the  timorous,  squirely  baud. 

And  his  girdle  and  mantle  soon  throws  aside^ 
And  all  the  knights,  and  the  ladies  too, 
The  noble  stripling  with  wonderment  view. 

And  when  he  draws  nigh  to  the  rocky  brow. 

And  looks  in  the  gulf  so  black, 
The  waters  that  she  had  swallow'd  but  now, 

The  howling  Charybdis  is  giving  back  ; 
And,  with  distant  thunder's  dull  sound, 
From  her  gloomy  womb  they  all-foaming  rebound. 

And  it  boils  and  it  roars,  and  it  hisses  and  seethes. 

As  when  water  aud  lire  first  blend  ; 
To  the  sky  spurts  the  foam  in  steam-laden  wreaths. 

And  wave  presses  hard  upon  wave  without  end. 
And  the  ocean  will  never  exhausted  be. 
As  if  striving  to  bring  forth  another  sea. 


-'o 


But  at  length  the  wild  tumult  seems  pacified, 

Aud  blackly  amid  the  white  swell 
A  gaping  chasm  its  jaws  opens  wide. 

As  if  leading  down  to  the  depths  of  Hell : 
And  the  howling  billows  are  seen  by  each  eye 
Down  the  whkUng  funnel  all  madly  to  fly. 

Then  quickly,  before  the  breakers  rebound. 
The  stripling  commends  him  to  Heaven, 

And — a  scream  of  horror  is  heard  around, — 
And  now  by  the  whirlpool  away  he  is  driven, 

i«d  secretly  over  the  swimmer  brave 

Close  the  jaws,  and  he  vanishes  'neath  the  dark  wave> 

O'er  the  watery  gulf,  dread  silence  now  lies. 

But  the  deep  sends  up  a  dull  yell. 
And  from  mouth  to  mouth  thus  trembling  it  flieE  : 

"  Courageous  stripling,  oh  fare  thee  well  !  " 
And  duller  and  duller  the  howls  recommence. 
While  they  pause  in  anxious  aud  fearful  sujspen*©. 


The  crvBR.  ISJ 

"  if  even  thy  crown  in  the  giil  f  thou  shonldst  fling, 
And  shoulclst  say,  '  He  avIio  brings  ?.*,  to  mo 

SliiiU  wiiii'  it  hcnci'forward,  and  ho  tlie  king,' 

Thou  could'st  tempt  inn  not  e'en  with  that  precious 
fee; 

What  iiudt-r  the  howling  di'cp  is  eonceal'd 

To  no  happy  living  boiil  is  reveal'd." 


Full  many  a  ship,  by  the  wliirlpool  held  fast, 
Shoots  straightway  beneath  the  mad  wave, 

And,  dash'd  to  pieces,  the  hull  and  the  mast 
Emerge  from  the  all-devouring  grave, — 

And  the  roaring  approaches  still  nearer  and  nearer, 

Like  the  howl  of  the  tempest,  still  clearer  and  clearer. 

And  it  boils  and  it  roars,  and  it  hisses  and  seethes. 

As  when  water  and  fire  first  blend  ; 
To  the  sky  sjiurts  the  foam  in  steam-laiea  wreatlis, 

And  wave  jjrosses  hard  upon  wave  w'ithout  end. 
And,  with  the  distant  thunder's  dull  sound 
From  the  ocean-womb  they  all-bellowing  bound. 

And  lo  !  from  the  darkly  flowing  tide 

Comes  a  -s-ision  white  as  a  swan. 
And  an  arm  and  a  glistening  neck  are  descried, 

With  might  ami  with  active  zeal  steering  on  ; 
And  'tis  he,  and  behold  !  his  left  hand  on  high 
Waves  the  goblet,  while  beaming  with  joy  is  his  eye. 

Then  breathes  he  deeply,  then  breathes  he  long, 

And  blesses  the  light  of  the  day  ; 
Wliile  gladly  exclaim  to  each  other  the  throng  : 

"  He  lives  !  he  is  here  !     He  is  not  the  sea's  prey  I 
From  the  tomb,  from  the  eddjnng  waters'  control, 
The  brave  one  has  rescued  his  living  soul  !  " 

And  he  comes,  and  they  joyously  round  him  stana 

At  the  feet  of  the  monarch  he  falls, — 
The  goblet  he,  kneeling,  puts  in  his  Jiand, 

Auil  the  King  to  his  beauteous  daughter  calls. 
Who  fills  it  with  sparkl'ng  wine  to  the  brim  ; 
The  youth  turns'  t-o  the  mouaxch,  and  speaks  thus  t« 
him ; — 


160  THE  UlVSlIJ. 

"'Long  life  to  the  King!    Let  all  those  be  glaA 

Who  breathe  in  the  Hght  of  the  sky ! 
For  below  all  is  fearful,  of  moment  sad ; 

Let  not  man  to  tempt  th  ^  immortals  e'er  try, 
Let  him  never  desire  the  thing  to  see 
That  with  terror  and  night  they  veil  fiTaciously. 

"I  was  torn  below  with  t'.e  speed  of  light. 

When  out  of  a  cavern  of  -^oc'- 
Eush'd  tow'rds  me  a  spring  with  furious  might ; 

I  was  seiz'd  by  the  twofold  torrent's  wild  shock, 
A-nd  like  a  top,  with  a  whirl  and  a  bonnd. 
Despite  all  resistance,  was  whirl'd  around. 

"Then  God  pointed  out, — for  to  Him  I  cried 

In  that  terrible  moment  of  need. — 
A  craggy  reef  in  the  gulf's  dark  side . 

I  seiz'd  it  in  haste,  and  from  death  was  then  free^. 
And  there,  on  sharp  corals,  -vws  hanging  the  cup,-— 
She  fathomless  pit  had  else  swallowed  ii  up. 

For  Tinder  me  lay  it,  still  moiintain-deep. 

In  a  darkness  of  jsurple-tinged  dye, 
And  though  to  the  ear  all  might  seem  then  asleep 

With  shuddering  awe  'twas  seen  l>y  the  eye 
How  the  salamanders'  and  dragons'  dread  forma 
Fill'd  those  terrible  jaws  of  hell  with  their  swarms. 

"There  crowded,  in  union  fearful  and  black, 

In  a  horrible  mass  entwin'd. 
The  rock-fish,  the  ray  with  the  thorny  back, 

And  the  hammer-fish's  inis-shapen  kind, 
And  the  shark,  the  hyena  dread  of  the  sea. 
With  his  angry  teeth,  grinn'd  fiercely  on  me. 


"  There  hung  I,  by  fulness  of  terror  possess'd, 

Where  all  huinaji  aid  was  unknown, 
Amongst  phantoms,  the  only  sensitive  breast, 

Li  that  fearful  solitude  all  alone. 
Where  the  voice  of  mankind  could  not  reach  to  mine 
ear, 

Mid  the  monsters  foul  of  that  wilderness  ureac 


i'KE  DIVEK. 


m 


•'Thus    BhudJ'ring     incthought — when     a    Bometliius 
crawK'd  lu-ar, 

Atiil  a  liuudred  limbs  it  ont-flnng. 
jwiid  at.  mo  it  snapp'd  ; — in  my  mortal  icar, 

I  left  hold  of  tho  coral  to  whicli  I  had  clung  ; 
Thou  tho  wliirlpool  sciz'd  on  me  witli  maddcu'd  roar, 
let  'twas  Avell,  for  it  brought  me  to  light  ouce  more," 

Tho  story,  in  wondormont  hoars  tho  King, 

And  he  says,  "  Tlio  cup  iathiuo  own, 
And  I  purpose  also  to  give  thee  this  ring, 

Adora'd  with  a  costly,  a  priceless  stone, 
If  thoii'lt  tiy  ouce  again,  and  bring  word  to  me 
What  thou  saw'st  in  the  nethermost  dei^ths  of  the  sea.^^ 

His  daughter  hears  this  with  emotions  soft. 

And  with  fluttering  accent  prays  she  : 
"  That  fearful  sport,  father,  attempt  not  too  oft ! 

What  none  other  would  dare,  he  hath  ventur'd  for 
thee; 
If  thy  heart's  wild  longings  thou  canst  not  tame, 
Let  the  knights,  if  they  can,  put  the  squire  to  shame." 

The  King  then  seizes  the  goblet  in  haste. 

In  the  gulf  he  hurls  it  with  might : 
"  Wlien  the  goblet  once  more  in  my  hands  thou  has'J 
placed, 

Thou  shalt  rank  at  my  coitrt  as  the  noblest  knight. 
And  hor  as  a  bride  thou  shalt  clasp  e'en  to-day. 
Who  for  thee  with  tender  comj)assiou  doth  pray." 

Then  a  force,  as  from  Heaven,  descends  on  him  there^ 

And  lightning  gleams  in  his  eye, 
And  blushes  he  sees  on  her  features  Jo  fair. 

And  he  sees  her  turn  pale,  and  swooning  lie ; 
Then  eager  the  precious  guerdon  to  win. 
For  life  or  for  death,  lo  !  he  jilunges  iu ! 

The  breakers  they  hear,  and  the  breakers  return. 

Proclaimed  by  a  thundering  sound  ; 
They  bend  c>'or  the  gulf  with  glances  that  yearn, 

And  the  Avaters  are  pouring  iu  fast  around : 
Though  upwards  and    dowuwanls  they  rush  and  they 

rave. 
The  youth  is  brought  buck  by  no  kiudly  wave, 


THE  KNIQHT  OF  TOGGENBURQ 


A  BAIiljAD. 

*'  I  CAN  love  thee  well,  believe  me, 

As  a  sister  true ; 
Other  love,  Sir  Kuiglit,  would  grieve  me. 

Sore  my  heart  would  rue. 
Calmly  would  I  see  thee  going, 

Calmly,  too,  appear ; 
For  those  tears  in  silence  flowing 

Find  no  answer  here." 

^lus  she  speaks, — he  hears  her  sadly,— 

How  his  heartstrings  bleed  ! — 
In  his  arms  he  clasps  her  madly, 

Then  he  mounts  his  steed. 
From  the  Switzer  land  collects  he 

All  his  warriors  brave  ; — 
Cross  on  breast,  their  course  directs  he 

To  the  Holy  Grave. 

In  triumphant  march  advancing. 

Onward  moves  the  host. 
While  their  morion  plumes  are  dancing 

Where  the  foes  are  most. 
Mortal  terror  strikes  the  Paynim 

At  the  chieftain's  name  ; 
But  tlie  knight's  sad  tlioughts  enchain  him,. 

Grief  consumes  his  frame. 

Twelve  long  months,  with  courage  daring, 

Peace  he  strives  to  find  ; 
Then  at  last,  of  rest  despairing. 

Leaves  the  host  behind  ; 
Sees  a  ship,  whose  sails  are  swelling, 

Lie  on  Joppa's  strand ; 
Ships  him  homeward  for  her  dwelling, 

In  his  own  lov'd  land. 

Kow  behold  the  pilgrim  weary 

At  her  castle  gate  ! 
But,  alas !  these  a(!cents  dreary 

tieal  his  mournful  fate  :■— 


THE   KNIGHT   OF   TOOGEN'BtmS. 

She  thou  seek'st,  her  troth  hath  plighted 
To  all-gracious  Heavcu  ; 
To  her  God  she  was  united 
Yesterday  at  even!  " 

To  his  father's  home  for  ever 

Bids  he  now  adieu  ; 
Sees  no  m^tre  his  arms  and  beaver, 

Nor  hi3  steed  so  true. 
Tken  descends  he  sadly,  slowly, — 

None  suspect  the  sight, — 
For  a  garb  of  penance  lowly 

Wears  the  noble  knight. 

Soon  he  now,  the  tempest  braving. 

Builds  a  humble  shed. 
Where,  o'er  lime-trees  darldy  waving. 

Peeps  the  convent's  head. 
From  the  orb  of  day's  first  gleaming. 

Till  his  race  has  run, 
Hope  in  ev'ry  feature  beaming. 

There  he  sits  alone. 

Tow'rd  the  convent  straining  ever 

His  uuweai'ied  eyes, — 
From  ht  r  casement  looking  never 

Till  it  open  dies, 
TiU  the  lov'd  one,  soft  advancing, 

Shows  her  gentle  face, 
O'er  the  vale  her  sweet  eye  glancing, 

Fidl  of  angel-grace. 

Then  he  seeks  his  bed  of  rushes, 

Still'd  all  grief  and  pain, 
Slumbering  calm,  till  momiug's  blushes 

Waken  life  again. 
Days  and  years  fleet  on,  yet  never 

Breathes  he  jjlaiut  or  sighs. 
On  her  casement  gazuig  ever. 

Till  it  open  Hies. 

Till  the  lov'd  one,  soft  advancing. 

Shows  her  gentle  face. 
O'er  the  vale  her  sweet  eye  glancing, 

Full  cf  ancel-erace. 


i/ja 


164  THE  FIGHT  ■ffTTH  THE  DRAGON. 

Bnt,  at  length  the  morn  returning, 
Finds  him  dead  and  chill, — 

Pale  and  wan,  Lis  gaze,  Tvith  yearning. 
Seeks  her  casement  still  > 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  THE  DRAGON. 

Why  run  the  crowd  ?    "What  means  the  tjirong 

That  rushes  fast  the  streets  along  ? 

Can  Eh  odes  a  prey  to  flames,  then,  be? 

In  crowds  they  gather  hastily. 

And,  on  his  steed,  a  noble  knight 

Amid  the  rabble,  meets  my  sight ; 

Behind  him — prodigy  unknown  ! — 

A  monster  fierce  they're  drawing  on  ; 

A  dragon  seems  it  by  its  shape, 

With  wide  and  crocodile-like  jaw. 
And  on  the  knight  and  dragon  gape, 
In  turns,  the  people,  fill'd  with  awe. 

And  thousand  voices  shout  with  glee  : — 

"  The  fiery  dragon  come  and  see, 

Who  hind  and  flock  tore  limb  from  limb  !— 

The  hero  see,  who  vanquisb'd  him  ! 

Full  many  a  one  before  him  went, 

To  dare  the  fearful  combat  bent, 

But  none  returned  home  from  the  fight ; 

Honor  ye,  then,  the  noble  knight !  " 

And  toward  the  convent  move  they  all. 

While  met  in  hasty  council  there 
The  brave  kniglits  of  the  Hospital, 

St.  John  the  Baptist's  Order,  were. 

Up  to  the  noble  Master  sped 
Tiie  youth,  with  firm  but  modest  tread ; 
The  people  f  ollow'd  with  wild  shout, 
And  stood  the  landing-place  about. 
While  thus  outspoke  that  Daring  One  :— . 
"  My  knightly  dut^y  I  have  done. 
The  dragon  that  laid  waste  the  land 
Has  fallen  'neath  my  conquering  hand. 
The  way  is  to  the  wanderer  free. 

The  shepherd  o'er  the  plains  may  rove  5 
Across  the  mountains  joyfully 

The  pilgrim  to  the  shrine  may  m^ova." 


tSR  FIGHT  ^ITrt  TU3   DRAOON.  J  06 

But  Rtomly  loolc'tl  tho  princ- ,  and  said  : 
"Tho  hero's  part  thou  ^v(•ll  Imst  play'd; 
By  couraf^e  is  the  true  kiiip;lit  known, — 
A  dauutk'ss  Binrii  thou  hast  shown. 
Yet  speak  !     What  duty  lirst  should  he 
Kegard,  Avho  wouhl  Christ's  champion  be, 
Who  wears  tlie  cmoh-in  of  the  Cross?" 
And  all  turned  pale  at  his  discoui-se. 
Yet  he  replied,  with  noble  grace, 

While  blushin^dy  he  bent  him  low  : 
"That  he  deserves  so  proud  a  place 
Obedience  best  of  all  can  show." 

"My  son,"  the  Master  answering  spoke, 

"  Thy  daring  act  this  duty  broke. 

The  conflict  that  the  law  forbade 

Thou  hast  with  impious  mind  essay'd."— - 

"  Lord,  judge  when  all  to  thee  is  known.'* 

The  other  spake,  in  steadfast  tone,— 

"  For  I  the  lawn's  commands  and  will 

Purpos'd  with  honor  to  fulfil, 

I  went  not  out  with  hecdh^ss  thought, 

Hoping  tho  monster  dread  to  find  : 
To  conquer  in  the  fight  I  sought 

By  ctinning,  and  a  j)rudent  mind. 

"  Five  of  our  noble  Order,  then 

(Our  faith  could  boast  no  b(>tter  men), 

Had  by  theu'  daidng  lost  their  life. 

When  thou  forbadest  us  the  strife. 

And  yet  my  lieart  I  felt  a  prey 

To  gloom,  and  panted  for  the  fray  ; 

Ay,  even  in  the  stilly  night, 

In  vision  gasp'd  I  in  the  fight ; 

And  Avhen  the  glimm'ring  morning  came, 

And  of  fresh  troubles  knowledge  gav^ 
A  raghig  grief  consum'd  my  frame. 

And  I  resolv'd  the  thiiig  to  brave. 

"And  to  myself  I  thus  began  : 

'  What  is^  t  adorns  the  youth,  the  man  t 

What  actions  of  the  heroes  bold. 

Of  whom  in  aneient  song  we're  told. 

Blind  heathendom  rais'd  up  on  higl* 

To  goillike  fame  and  'liguity  ? 


iQB  THE  FIGHT  WITH  THE  DRAQOSc 

The  world,  by  deeds  knoA\Ti  far  and  wide, 
From  mousters  fierce  they  purified ; 
riie  lion  in  the  fight  they  met, 

And  wrestled  Antli  the  Minotaur, 
Unhappy  victims  free  to  set, 

And  were  not  sparing  of  their  gore. 

♦*  •  Are  none  but  Saracens  to  feel 

The  prowess  of  the  Christian  steel  ? 

False  idols  only  shall  he  brave  ? 

His  mission  is  the  woi'ld  to  save  : 

To  free  it,  by  his  sturdy  arm, 

From  ev'ry  hurt,  from  ev'ry  harm  ; 

Yet  wisdom  must  his  courage  bend, 

And  cunning  must  with  strength  contend. 

Thus  spake  I  oft,  and  went  alone 

The  monster's  traces  to  espy  ; 
Wlien  on  my  mind  a  bright  light  shone, — 

*  I  have  it  1 '  was  my  joyful  cry. 

'  To  thee  I  went,  and  thus  I  spake  : 
'My  homeward  journey  I  would  take.' 
.Chou,  lord,  didst  grant  my  prayer  to  me,— = 
Then  safely  traversed  I  the  sea  ; 
And,  when  I  reached  my  native  strand, 
I  caus'd  a  skillful  artist's  hand 
To  make  a  di'agon's  image,  true 
To  his  that  now  so  well  I  knew. 
On  feet  of  measure  short  v.'as  plac'd 

Its  lengthy  body's  heavy  load ; 
A  gcaly  coat  of  mail  embrac'd 

The  back,  on  wliich  it  fiercely  show'd. 

"  Its  stretching  neck  appear'd  to  swell. 

And,  ghastly  as  a  gate  of  hell, 

Its  fearful  jaws  were  open  wide. 

As  if  to  seize  the  prey  it  tried  ; 

And  ia  its  black  mouth,  rang"d  about, 

Its  teeth  in  prickly  rows  stood  out ; 

Its  tongue  was  like  a  sharp-edged  sword, 

And  lightning  from  its  small  eyes  pour'd  ; 

A  serpent's  tail  of  many  a  fold 

Ended  its  body's  monstrous  span, 
And  round  itself  with  fierceness  roU'd, 

So  as  to  clasp  both  steed  and  man. 


THE  FIcnT  -WITH  THE   PRAGON.  MT 

"  I  form'd  the  Avholo  to  nature  true, 
In  sliiu  of  gri-y  uud  biJuuu.s  hui; ; 
Tart  dragou  it  appear'd,  part  snake, 
Eiigonder'd  in  tlid  poisonous  lako. 
And,  when  the  figure  vas  comiilete, 
A  pair  of  dogs  I  chose  me,  tieet. 
Of  mighty  strength,  of  nimble  pace, 
Inur'd  the  savage  boar  to  cliase; 
The  dragou,  then,  1  made  tlicm  bait. 
Inliaming  tlieni  to  fury  dread, 
"With  their  sharp  teeth  to  ueize  it  straight. 
And  with  my  voice  their  motions  led. 

"  And,  -where  the  belly's  tender  skin 
AUow'd  the  tooth  to  enter  in, 
I  tauglit  them  how  to  seize  it  there. 
And,  with  tlnir  fangs  the  part  to  tear. 
I  mounted,  then,  my  Arab  steed, 
'The  offspring  of  a  noble  breed  ; 
My  hand  a  durt  on  high  held  forth, 
And,  when  I  had  iiifl;uu'd  his  wrath, 
I  stuck  my  sharp  spurs  in  his  side. 

And  urgd  him  on  as  quick  as  thought, 
And  hurl'd  my  dart  in  circles  wide, 

As  if  to  pierce  the  beast  I  sought. 

•'  And  though  my  steed  rear'd  high  in  pain. 
And  champ'il  and  foara'd  beneath  the  rein. 
And  though  the  dogs  howl'd  fearfulh% 
Till  they  were  calmed  ne'er  rested  I. 
This  plan  I  ceaselessly  pursued. 
Till  thrice  the  moon  had  been  renew'd  ; 
And  when  tliey  had  been  duly  tauglit, 
In  swift  shipshere  I  had  them  brought; 
And  since  my  foot  these  shores  1ms  press'd. 

Flown  lias  three  morning's  narrow  spaQI 
I  scarce  allow'd  my  limbs  to  rest 

Ere  I  the  mighty  task  began, 

"  For  hotly  was  my  bosom  stirr'd 
When  of  the  land's  fresh  grief  I  heard  ; 
Shepherds  of  late  had  been  his  prey, 
Wlieu  in  the  marsh  tiiey  went  astray. 
I  form'd  my  plans  then  hastily, — 
Jdy  heart  was  all  that  counsel'd  mo, . 


168  THE  FIGHT  ■U'lTH  THE  DRAGON. 

My  squires  iustructing  to  proceed, 
I  sprang  upon  my  well-traiu'd  steed, 
And,  foUow'd  by  my  noble  pair 

Of  dogs,  by  secret  pathways  rode. 
Where  not  an  eye  could  witness  bear, 

To  find  the  monster's  fell  abode. 

Thou,  lord,  must  know  the  chapel  well, 
Pitch'd  on  a  rocky  pinnacle, 
That  overlooks  the  distant  isle  ; 
A  daring  mind  'twas  rais'd  the  pile. 
Though  humble,  mean,  and  small  it  shows 
Its  walls  a  miracle  enclose, — 
The  Virgin  and  her  Infant  Son, 
Vow'd  by  the  Three  Kings  of  Cologne, 
By  three  times  thirty  steps  is  led 

The  pilgrim  to  the  giddy  height ; 
Yet,  when  he  gains  it  with  bold  tread. 

He's  quicken'd  by  his  Saviour's  sight, 

"  Deep  in  the  rock  to  which  it  clings, 

A  cavern  dark  its  arms  outfiings, 

Moist  with  the  neighboring  moorland's  dew. 

Where  heaven's  bright  rays  can  ne'er  pierce  throi 

There  dwelt  the  monster,  there  he  lay. 

His  spoil  awaiting,  night  and  day  ; 

Like  the  hell-dragon,  thus  he  kept 

Watch  near  the  shrine,  and  never  slept ; 

And  if  a  hapless  pilgrim  chanced 

To  enter  on  tliat  fatal  way. 
From  out  his  ambush  quick  advanced 

The  foe,  and  seiz'd  him  as  his  prej, 

*'  I  mounted  now  the  rocky  height. 
Ere  I  commenced  the  fearful  fight. 
There  knelt  I  to  the  Infant  Lord. 
And  pardon  for  my  sins  implor'd. 
Then  in  the  lioly  fane  I  placed 
My  shining  armor  round  my  waist, 
My  right  hand  grasp'd  my  javelin,- 
The  fight  then  AV(nit  I  to  b(^gin  ; 
Instructions  gave  my  squires  among. 

Commanding  tliem  to  tarry  there  ; 
Then  on  my  steed  I  nimbly  sprung, 

Aud  gave  my  spirit  to  God's  care. 


THE  nOHT   V.ixn  TEIE   DRAGON. 

"  Soon  as  I  H'ac'li'd  tlic;  k-vcl  plain, 
My  dogs  fonnd  unt  the  scent  amain  ;_ 
]\ly  friglitcn'd  horso  soon  rear'd  on  liigli,- 
His  fear  I  could  not  pacify, 
For,  coil'd  np  in  a  circle,  lo  ! 
There  lay  the  iurco  and  hideous  foe, 
Sunning'himsclf  upon  the  ground. 
Straight  at  him  rush'd  each  nimble  hound  ; 
Yet  thence  they  tuvn'd  dismay'd  and  fast, 

When  he  his  gaping  jaws  op'd  wide, 
Vomited  lorth  his  poisonous  blast,  _ 

And  like  the  htnvling  jackal  cried. 

"  But  soon  their  courage  I  restor'd  ;  ^ 
They  seized  with  rage  the  foe  ahhoiT'd, 
Winlc  I  against  the  beast's  loins  threw 
My  spear  Avith  sturdy  arm  and  time  : 
But,  powerless  as  a  bulrush  frail, 
It  bomided  from  his  coat  of  mail ; 
And  ere  I  could  rcpc^at  tlu^  throw, 
My  horse  reel'd  wildly  to  and  fro 
Before  his  basilisk-like  look. 

And  at  his  poist)n-te(niing  breath, — 
Sprang  back-s\ard,  and  Avith  terror  shook. 

While  I  seem'd  doom'd  to  certain  deatho 

"  Then  from  my  steed  I  nimbly  spmng, 
My  shari>-ed;,'ed  sword  Avith  vigor  swung  ; 
Yet  all  iu  vain  my  strokes  I  plied, — 
I  could  not  pierce  his  rock-like  hide. 
His  tail  A\ith  fury  lashing  round, 
Sudden  he  bore  me  to  the  ground 
His  jaws  then  opening  fearfully. 
With  aiigry  teeth  he  struck  at  me  ; 
But  now  my  dogs,  Avith  Avrath  ncAV-bom, 

Eush'd  on  his  belly  Avith  fierce  bite, 
So  that,  by  di'eadful  anguish  torn, 

He  howling  stood  before  my  sight 

"  And  ere  he  from  their  teeth  was  free, 
I  rais'd  myself  up  hastily. 
The  Aveak  place  of  the  foe  explor'd. 
And  in  his  entrails  plunged  my  sword, 
Siuking  it  even  to  the  hilt ; 
Black-gusliing  forth,  his  blood  was  spilt, 


169 


170  THE  FIGHT  WITH  THE  DKAGON. 

Do^v^l  sank  lie,  burying  in  liis  fall 
Me  Avith  liis  body's  giuiit  ball, 
So  tliat  my  senses  qnickly  fled  ; 

And  Mhen  I  woke  A\ith  strength  reuew'd, 
The  dragon  in  his  l)lood  lay  dead, 

While,  round  me  group'd  my  squires  all  stood.'* 

The  joyous  shouts,  so  long  suppress'd, 
Now  burst  from  ev'ry  hearer's  bi'east. 
Soon  as  the  knight  these  words  had  spoken  ; 
And  ten  times  'gainst  the  high  vault  broken. 
The  sound  of  mingled  voices  rang 
Ke-echomg  back  with  hollow  clang. 
The  Order's  sons  demand,  in  haste, 
That  witii  a  crown  his  broAv  be  graced, 
And  gratefidly  in  triumph  now 

The  mob  the  youth  Avould  bear  along — 
When,  lo  !  the  ]\Iaster  knit  his  brow, 

And  called  for  silence  'mongst  the  throng. 

And  said,  "  The  dragon  that  this  laud 
Laid  Avaste,  thou  sleAv'st  Avitli  daring  hand  ; 
"Although  the  people's  idle  thou. 
The  Order's  foe  I  deem  thee  now. 
Thy  breast  has  to  a  fiend  more  base 
Thau  e'en  tliis  dragon  given  place. 
The  serpent  that  the  heart  most  stings, 
And  hatred  and  destruction  brings, 
That  spirit  is,  Avhich  stuljborn  lies, 

And  impiously  casts  off  the  rein. 
Despising  order's  sacred  ties  ; 

'Tis  that  destroys  the  world  amain. 

"  The  Mameluke  makes  of  courage  boast, 
Obedience  decks  the  Christian  most ; 
For  Avlwre  our  great  r.r.d  blessed  Lord 
As  a  moi'e  servant  wallc'd  abroad. 
The  Fathers,  on  that  holy  ground. 
This  famous  Ordc>r  clior.o  to  found, 
That  arduous  duty  to  fulfill, 
To  OA'ercome  one's  oavu  selt'-Avill  ! 
'Twas  Idle  glory  mov'd  thee  there : 

So  take  thee  hence  fi'om  out  my  sight  I 
For  Avho  tho  Lord's  yoke  cannot  bear. 

To  wear  his  cross  can  have  uo  right." 


fBIDOLTN'. 

A  furious  shout  iioav  raise  the  crowd, 
The  i)lace  is  filled  -with  outcries  loud ; 
The  Bnlhr.Mi  all  for  jmrdon  cry ; 
The  y«)ulh  in  silence  droops  his  eye — 
Mutely  his  p-arnu-nt  from  him  thnjws, 
Kisses  the  Master's  liand,  and— rjoes. 
But  ho  ]iursuea  him  Avith  his  gaze, 
R(>calls  him  l()\-i!igly,  and  saAs  : 
"Let  me  emhraee  tliee  now,  my  son  ! 

The  harder  fight  is  gaiu'd  hy  thee. 
Take,  then,  this  cross — the  guerdon  won 

By  self -subdued  humility." 


FRIDOLIN  ; 

OR, 

THE   "W^VLK   TO   TKE   IKON   FOUNDBYo 

A  GENTLE  page  "svas  Fridolin, 

And  he  his  mistress  dear, 
Saveru's  fair  Countess,  honor'd  iu 

All  tnith  and  godly  fear. 
She  was  so  meek,  and,  ah  !  so  good  ! 
Yet  each  wish  of  her  way\vard  mood. 

He  would  have  studi'.'d  to  fulfil. 

To  please  his  God,  with  earnest  will. 

From  the  first  hour  when  daylight  shone 

Till  rang  the  vesper-chime, 
He  liv'd  but  for  her  will  alone, 

And  deem'd  e'en  that  scarce  time. 
And  if  she  said,  "Less  aK>dous  be  1" 
His  eye  then  glisten'd  t(>arfully, 

Thinking  that  he  iu  duty  fail'd, 

And  so  before  no  toil  he  quail'd. 

And  so,  before  her  sening  train, 
The  Countess  lov'd  to  raise  him  ; 

Wliile  lu^r  fair  mouth,  in  endless  strain; 
Was  ever  wont  to  praise  him. 


171 


Sbe  never  lieid  him  as  lier  slave, 
Her  heart  a  child's  rights  to  him  gave  | 
Her  clear  eye  hung  in  fond  delight 
Upon  his  well-form'd  features  bright. 

Soon  in  the  huntsman  Eobert's  breast 

Was  poisonous  anger  fir'd  ; 
His  black  soul,  long  bv  lust  possess'd, 

With  malice  ^vas  inspir'd  ; 
He  sought  the  Count,  -whom,  quick  indeed, 
A  traitor  might  with  case  mislead, 

As  once  from  huntuig  home  they  rode, 

And  in  his  heart  susjpicion  sow'd. 

"  Happy  art  thou,  great  Count,  in  truth," 

Thus  cunnmgly  he  spoke  ; 
"  For  ne'er  mistrust's  euvenom'd  tooth 

Thy  goldeu  slumbers  broke  ; 
A  noble  "wife  thy  love  rewards. 
And  modesty  her  person  guards. 

The  Temjiter  v,-ill  be  able  ne'er 

Her  true  fidelity  to  snare." 

A  gloomy  scowl  the  Count's  eye  fill'd  : 
"  What's  this  thou  say'st  to  me  ? 

Shall  I  on  woman's  virtue  build. 
Inconstant  as  the  sea  ? 

TJie  flatterer's  mouth  with  ease  may  hire  5 

My  trust  is  placed  on  groiuid  more  sure. 
No  one,  methiiiks,  dare  ever  burn 
To  tempt  the  wife  of  Coimt  Savern." 

The  other  spoke  :  "  Thou  sayest  it  well ; 

The  fool  deserves  thy  scorn 
"WHio  ventures  on  such  thoughts  to  dwell, 

A  mere  retainer  born, — 
Who  tt)  the  lady  he  oT)eys 
Fears  not  his  wishes'  lust  to  raise." — 

"  Wliat !"  tremT)lingly  the  Count  began, 

"  Dost  speak,  then,  of  a  living  man?" — . 

"  Is,  then,  tlie  thing,  to  all  reveal'd. 

Hid  from  my  master's  view  ? 
Yet,  sinc;e  A\ith  care  from  thee  conceal'd, 

I'd  fain  conceal  it  too  " — 


FRIDOLIN', 


173 


"Spoak  quickly,  villiiin  !  speak  or  die  !" 

Exclniiu'il  tlio  other  iViirlully. 

"  ^Vllo  dares  to  look  ou  Ciuiigoud?" 
"  'Tis  the  fair  page  that  is  so  fond." 


'  He's  not  ill-shap'd  in  form,  I  wot," 

He  craftily  Avent  on  ; 
The  Count  meanwhile  felt  cold  and  hot, 

By  turns  in  cv'ry  bono. 
"  Is't  jjossiblo  thou  seest  not,  sir, 
How  he  has  eyes  for  none  but  her  ? — 

At  table  ne'er  attends  to  thee, 

But  sighs  behind  her  ceaselessly  ? 


"  Behold  the  rhymes  that  from  him  came 

His  passion  to  confess  " — 
"  Confess  !" — "  And  for  an  answering  flame,- 

The  impious  knave  ! — to  press. 
My  gracious  lady,  soft  and  meek, 
Through  jnty,  doubtless,  f(>ar'd  to  speak  ; 

That  it  has  'scap'd  mi>,  sore  I  rue  ; 

^Vllat,  lord,  canst  thou  to  heli^  it  do  ?" 


Into  the  neighboring  wood  then  rode 

The  Count,  intiam'd  with  wrath, 
Wliero,  in  his  iron-fountliy,  glow'd 

The  ore,  and  bubbk'd  forth. 
The  workmen  here,  Avith  busy  hand, 
The  fire  both  late  and  early  faun'd. 

The  sparks  tiy  out,  the  bellows  ply, 

As  if  the  rock  to  liquefy. 


The  fii-e  and  water's  might  twofold 

Are  here  united  found  ; 
The  mill-wheel,  by  the  flood  seiz'd  hold, 

Is  whirling  round  and  round  ; 
The  Avorks  are  clatt'riug  night  and  day, 
With  measnr'd  stroke  the  hammers  play, 

And,  yielding  to  the  mighty  bloAvs, 

The  very  irou  plastic  grows. 


174  miDoiiiN. 

Then  to  two  workmen  beckons  he 


And  speaks  thus  in  his  ire  : 
"  The  first  who's  hither  sent  by  me 

Thus  of  ye  to  iuqviira  : 
*  Hare  ye  ob?y'd  my  lord's  word  well?" 
Him  cast  ye  into  yonder  h(^ll, 

That  into  ashes  lie  may  fly, 
And  ne'er  again  torment  mine  eye  !" 

Th'  inhuman  pair  were  overjoy'd, 

With  devilish  glee  possess'd  : 
For  as  the  ii-on,  feeling  void, 

Their  heart  was  in  their  breast. 
And  brisker  vrith  the  bellows'  blast, 
The  foundry's  womb  now  heat  they  fast. 

And  with  a  murderous  mind  jireiiare 

To  offer  up  the  victim  there. 

Then  Robert  to  his  comrade  spake, 

With  false  hypocrisy  : 
'*  Up,  comrade,  up  !  no  tarrying  make  ' 

Our  lord  has  need  of  thee." 
The  lord  to  Pridolin  then  said  : 
"  The  pathway  tow'rd  the  foundry  tread- 

And  of  the  workmen  there  inquire, 

If  they  have  done  their  lord's  desire." 

The  other  answer'd,   "  Be  it  so  !  " 

But  o'er  him  came  this  thought. 
When  he  was  all-prepar'd  to  go, 

"  Will  she  command  me  aught? " 
So  to  the  Countess  straight  he  vrent : 
"  I'm  to  the  iron-foundry  sent ; 

Then  say,  can  I  do  aught  for  thee  ? 

For  thou  'tis  who  commandcst  me." 

To  this  the  Lady  of  Savern 

Keplied  in  gentle  tone  : 
"  To  hear  the  holy  mass  I  yearn, 

For  sick  now  lies  my  son  ; 
So  go,  my  cldld,  and  Avhen  thou'rt  ther% 
Utter  for  me  a  humble  prayer, 

And  of  thy  sins  think  ruefully, 

That  grace  may  also  fall  on  me." 


Ami  in  this  welcomo  duty  glad, 

Ho  ({uickly  joft  tlio  place  ; 
But  cro  tlio  villiigo  bounds  he  had 

Attain'd  witli  rnpid  pare, 
The  sound  ci  ])flls  struck  on  his  ens:, 
From  the  higli  Ix'lfry  ringing  cU-ar, 

And  ov'iy  sinner,  inHrcy-seut, 

Inviting  to  the  sacrament. 

"  Never  from  praising  (rod  refrain 
Wliere'er  by  thee  He's  found  1  " 

He  Fpoke,  and  stt'pp'd  into  tlie  fane, 
But  there  he  heard  vo  eoiuid  ; 

For  't  .vas  the  harvest  time,  and  now 

Glow'd  in  the  fields  the  r^'aper's  bx-ow  ; 
No  choristers  were  gather'd  there. 
The  duties  of  the  mass  to  share. 

The  mattt  r  paus'd  he  not  to  -weigh, 

]iut  took  the  sexton's  part ; 
•'  Tliat  thing,"  he  said,   "makes  no  delay 

Which  heav'nward  guides  tlu^  heart." 
Upon  the  i)riest,  Avith  helping  linnd. 
He  placed  the  stole  and  sacred  baud. 

The  vessels  he  prejjar'd  beside, 

That  for  the  mass  were  sanctified. 

And  when  his  duties  here  were  o'er, 

Holding  the  mass-liook,  he, 
Minist'ring  to  the  priest,  before 

The  altar  bow'd  his  knee. 
And  knelt  him  left,  and  knelt  him  right. 
While  not  a  look  escap'd  his  sight. 

And  wli(>n  tlie  holy  Sanctus  came. 

The  bell  thrice  rang  he  at  the  name. 

And  when  the  priest,  bow'd  humbly  too. 

In  hand  u])lit'ted  high. 
Facing  the  altar,  show'd  to  view 

The  Pn-sfmt  Deity, 
The  sacristan  proclaim'd  it  well, 
Sounding  the  clearly-tinkling  bell, 

Wliile  all  knelt  down   and  beat  the  Dreast, 
And  witii  a  crotis  the  Host  coufesb'd. 


ii4  FElDOtik. 

The  rites  tiins  serv'cl.  he,  leaving  none, 

With  quick  and  ready  wit ; 
Each  thing  that  in  God's  house  is  done, 

He  also  practis'd  it. 
tJnweariedly  he  labor'd  thus, 

Till  the  VoBiscuM  Dominus, 
Wlien  tow'rd  the  peojjle  turu'd  the  priest, 

Bless'd  them, — and  so  the  service  ceas'do 

rhen  he  dispos'd  each  thing  again, 

In  fair  and  due  array  ; 
First  purified  the  holy  fane, 

And  then  he  -went  his  way, 
ind  gladly,  with  a  mind  at  rest, 
bn  to  the  iron-foundry  press'd. 

Saying  the  while,  complete  to  be, 

Twelve  jjaternosters  silently. 

Lnd  when  he  saw  the  fui'nace  smoke. 

And  saw  the  workmen  stand, 
"  Have  ye,  ye  fellows,"  thus  he  spoke, 

"  Obey'd  the  Count's  command  ?  " 
Grinning  they  ope  the  orifice, 
A.nd  point  into  the  fell  abyss  : 

"  He's  car'd  for — all  is  at  an  end ! 

The  Count  his  servants  will  commend."' 

The  answer  to  his  lord  lie  brotight. 

Returning  hastily, 
Who,  when  his  form  his  notice  caught, 

Could  scarcely  trust  his  eye  : 
"Unhappy  one  !  whence  comest  thou?" — 
"Back  from  the  foundi-y."— "  Strange,  I  vow! 

Hast  in  thy  journey,  then,  delay'd?  " — 

"  'Twas  only,  lord,'  till  I  had  pray'd. 

*•  For  when  I  from  thy  presence  went 

(Oh  pardon  me  ! ),  to-day, 
As  duty  bid,  my  steps  I  bent 

To  her  whoiL  T  obey. 
She  told  mo,  loru.  the  mass  to  hear, 
I  gladly  to  her  wish  gave  ear. 

And  told  four  rosaries  at  the  shrine^ 

JFor  her  salvation  and  for  thine. " 


i'lliS  COtlNT  OP  ilAl'SBURrt.  l?'t 

In  -wonder  dcop  tlio  Count  now  foil, 

And,  Bhudd'riug,  thus  spake  he  : 
"  And,  at  the  fouudiy,  quickly  tell, 

What  answr-r  gave  they  thee?  " 
"  Obscure  the  v/ords  they  answer'd  in, — 
Showiug  tlu>  furnace  with  a  grin  -. 

*  He's  car'd  for — all  is  at  an  end ! 

The  Count  his  servants  will  commend,'  "* 

"  And  Robert?"  interrupted  he, 

Wliilo  deatUy  pale  he  stood, — 
"  Did  he  not,  then,  fall  in  with  thee? 

I  sent  him  to  the  wood." — 
"Lord,  neither  in  the  wood  nor  field 
Was  trace  of  Robert's  foot  revi^al'd." — 

"Then,"  cried  the  Count,  with  awe-gtrvick 
mien, 

"  Great  God  in  heav'n  his  judge  hath  been  !  " 

With  kindness  ho  before  ne'er  prov'd. 

He  k'd  him  by  the  hand 
Up  to  the  Countess, — deeply  mov'd, — 

Who  naught  could  understand. 
"  This  child,  let  him  be  dear  to  thee, 
No  angel  is  so  pure  as  he  ! 

Though  u-e  may  have  been  counsel'd  ill, 

God  and  His  hosts  Avatch  o'c  r  him  still." 


THE  COUNT  OF  HAP8BURG* 

A  BALLAD. 

At  Aix  la-Chapelle,  in  imperial  array, 

In  its  halls  reno-mi'd  in  old  story, 
At  the  coronation  bnn(]uet  so  gay 

King  Rudolf  was  sitting  in  glory. 
The  meats  were  sei-\''d  up  by  the  Palsgrave  of  Rhine, 


■  The  somcwliat  iiT  gular  metre  of  llie  ori<;iua'  liaa  been  proPcrvod 
ill  this  biiUad,  us  in  oiIilt  pooms;  altlioii{,'h  the  perfect  anaptestie 
metre  is  perliapa  more  familiar  to  the  Kuglisli  ear. 


17^  1aj:E  coUMT  of  hapsbueg. 

Tlie  Boltemiau  pourVl  out  the  bright  sparkling  wine, 

And  all  the  Electors,  the  seven, 
Stood  waiting  around  the  Tvorld-governing  One, 
As  the  chorus  of  stars  encircle  the  sun, 

That  honor  might  duly  be  given. 

And  the  people  the  lofty  balcony  round 

In  a  throug  exulting  "were  tilling ; 
While  loudly  were  blending  the  trumpets'  glad  sound. 

And  the  multitude's  voices  so  thrilling  ; 
For  the  monnrchless  period,  with  horror  rife, 
Has  ended  now,  after  long  baneful  strife, 

And  the  earth  had  a  lord  to  possess  her. 
No  longer  rul'd  blindly  the  iron-bonnd  spear. 
And  the  weak  and  the  peaceful  no  longer  need  fear 

Being  crush'd  by  the  cruel  oppressor. 

And  the  Emperor  speaks  wdth  a  smile  in  his  eye. 

While  the  golden  goblot  he  scuzes  : 
"  With  this  banquc  t  in  glory  none  other  can  vie, 

Aiid  my  regal  heart  well  it  pleases  ; 
Yet  the  minstrel,  the  bringtr  of  joy,  is  not  here. 
Whose  melodious  strains  to  my  heart  are  so  dear^ 

And  whose  words  heav'nly  wisdom  inspire  ; 
Since  the  days  of  my  youth  it'had  been  my  delight. 
And  that  which  I  ever  have  lov'd  as  a  knight, 

As  a  monarch  I  also  require." 

And  behold  !  'mongst  the  princes  who  stand   round  the 
throne 

Steps  the  bard,  in  his  robe  long  and  streaming, 
While,  bleach'd  by  the  years  that  have  over  him  flown, 

His  silver  locks  brightly  are  gleaming  ; 
"  Sweet  harmony  sleeps  in  the  golden  strings, 
The  minstrel  of  true  love  reward  ever  sings, 

And  adores  what  to  virtue  has  tended, — 
Wliat  the  bosom  may  wish,  what  the  senses  hold  dear  j 
But  say,  what  is  worthy  the  Emperor's  ear 

At  this,  of  all  feasts  the  most  splendid  ?  " 

"No  restraint  would  I  place  on  the  minstrel's  own 
choice," 

Speaks  the  monarch,  a  smile  on  each  feature  ; 
"  He  obeys  the  swift  hour's  imperious  voice, 

Of  a  far  greater  lord  is  the  creature. 
For,  as  through  the  air  the  storm-wind  on  speeds, — 


THE   COUNT   OF  HAPSUrRG.  179 

One  knows  not  from  whence  its  wild  roaring  procctnls — 

As  the  spring  l'rt>m  liid  s<nirces  up-lfupiug, 
So  tlie  lay  of  the  bard  from  the  inner  lit  ai  t  breaks, — 
"While  the  might  of  sensations  unknown  it  awakes, 
That  within  wa  were  woudronsly  sleeping." 

Then  the  bard  swejit  the  chords  with  a  finger  of  miglat. 

Evoking  their  magical  sighing  : 
"  To  the  chase  once  rode  forth  a  Aulorons  knight, 

In  pnrsnit  of  the  antelope  Hying. 
His  hunting-spear  bearing,  thi-re  came  in  his  train 
His  squire  ;  and  when  o'er  a  wide-spreading  plr^in 

On  liis  stately  steed  ho  w;s  riding, 
He  heard  in  the  distance  a  bell  tinkling  clear, 
And  a  priest,  Avith  tlie  Host,  he  saw  soon   drawing  near, 

"While  before  hnu  the  sexton  was  striding. 

•'  And  low  to  the  enrth  the  Count  then  iuclin'd. 

Bared  his  head  in  humble  submission, 
To  honor,  with  trusting  and  Christian-like  mind, 

"What  had  sav'd  the  whole  Avorld  from  jjerdition. 
But  a  brook  o'er  the  plain  was  pursuing  its  course. 
That,  swell'd  by  the  mountain  streams,  lieadlcng  force, 

Barr'd  the  wanderer's  pte]>s  with  its  current  l 
So  the  priest  on  one  side  the  blest  sacrament  pn:, 
And  his  sandal  with  nimbleness  drew  from  his  f.;(-.t. 

That  he  safely  might  pass  through  the  torrent. 

"  '  Wlnit  would.st  thou  ?'  the  Count  to  him  thr.s  began, 

His  wondering  look  tow'rd  him  turning  : 
•  'My  journey  is,  lord,  to  a  dying  man, 

n^io  for  heavenly  diet  is  yearning; 
But  when  to  the  bridge  o'er  the  brook  I  came  nigh, 
In  the  whirl  of  the  stream,  as  it  madly  rush'd  by 

"With  furious  might,  'twas  uprooted. 
And  so,  that  the  sick  the  salvation  may  find 
That  he  pants  for,  I  hasten  with  resolute  mind 

To  wade  througli  the  waters  barefooted.' 

"  Then  the  Count  made  him  mount  on  his  stately  steed. 
And  the  reins  to  his  hands  he  confided. 

That  he  duly  might  comfort  the  pick  in  his  need. 
And  that  each  holy  rite  be  provided. 

And  himself,  on  the  back  of  the  steed  of  his  sqiure, 


180  THE   COTJNl    OF  HAPSBTJEa. 

Went  after  tJie  cliase  to  Lis  heart's  full  desire, 

While  the  priest  on  his  iouruey  was  speeding 
And  the  following  morninc:,  with  thankful  look, 
To  the  Count  once  again  his  charger  he  took, 
Its  bridle  with  modesty  leading. 


"  -  God  forbid  that  in  chase  or  in  battle,'  then  cried 

The  Count  with  humility  lowly, 
'  The  steed  I  lienceforward  should  dare  to  bestride 

That  hath  borne  my  Creator  so  holy  ! 
And  if,  as  a  guerdon,  he  mr.y  not  bo  thine. 
He  devoted  shall  be  to  the  service  divine. 

Proclaiming  His  iulinite  merit, 
From  whom  I  each  honor  and  earthly  good 
Have  received  in  fee,  and  my  body  and  blood, 

And  my  breath,  and  my  life,  and  my  sijirit.' 


'"Then  may  God,  the   sure  rock,  whom  no  lime  can 
e'er  move. 
And  who  lists  to  the  weak's  supplication. 
For  the  honor  thou  pay'st  Him,  permit  thee  to  prove 

Honor  her'e,  and  hereafter  salvation  ! 
Thou'rt  a  powerful  Count,  and  thy  knightly  command 
Hath  blazou'd  thy  fame  thro'  the  Switzer's  broad  land  ; 

Thoa  art  blest  v/ith  six  daughters  admir'd  ; 
May  they  ea.ih  in  thy  house  introduce  a  bright  crow n, 
Filling  ages  unborn  with  their  glorious  renown, — 

Thus  exciaim'd  he  in  accents  iuspir'd. " 


And  the  Empoi-or  sat  there  ail-thoughtfully. 

While  the  cmam  of  the  past  stood  before  him ; 
And  when  on  the  minstrel  he  tum'd  his  eye, 

His  wox'ds'  hid'Ien  meaning  stole  o'er  him  ; 
For  seeing  the  traits  of  the  priest  there  reveal'd. 
In  the  folds  of  his  purple-dyed  robe  he  conceal'd 

His  tears  as  they  swiftly  cours'd  dov/u. 
And  all  on  the  Emperor  wond'iiagly  gaz'd, 
And  the  blest  disi:)in  sat  ions  of  Providence  prais'd, 

For  the  Count  and  the  Ccesar  were  one. 


181 
THE  GLOVE 

A  TAIiE. 

.3efore  liis  lion-coiirt, 
Impatient  for  the  sp()l■^, 

King  Francis  sat  otic  clay  ; 
Tbti  peers  of  Lis  realm  Fat  arouncl, 
And  in  balcony  liipjli  frcjui  tlie  ground 

Sat  the  ladies  in  beauteous  array. 


And  -when  with  his  finger  he  beckon'd. 
The  gate  opeu'd  -nide  in  a  second, — 
And  in,  with  deliberate  tread, 
Enters  a  lion  dread. 
And  looks  around 
Yet  utters  no  sound  ; 
Then  long  lie  yawns 

And  shakes  his  mane, 
And,  stretching  each  limb, 

Down  lies  he  again. 

Again  signs  tlie  king, — 

The  next  gate  open  flies. 
And,  1<)  !  witli  wild  spring, 

A  tiger  ont  hies. 
When  the  lion  he  sees,  loudly  roars  ho  aboui 
And  a  terrible  circle  his  tail  traces  ont. 
Protniding  his  ton.gue,  past  the  lion  he  walks. 
And,  snarling  with  rage,  round  him  warily  stalke 
Then,  growling  anew. 
On  one  side  lies  down  too. 


Again  signs  the  king, — 

And  two  gates  open  fly, 
And,  lo  !  with  one  spidng, 

Two  leopards  out  hie. 
On  the  tiger  they  rush,  for  the  fight  nothing  loth. 
But  he  with  his  paws  seizes  hold  of  them  both. 
And  the  lion,  with  roaring,  gets  up,— then  all's  still ; 
The  fierce  beasta  stalk  ui'ouud,  madly  thii-sting  to  kilL 


182  THE  TEILED   STATTB  At  SAIS. 

From  tlie  balcony  rais'd  high  above 
A  fair  hand  lets  fall  now  a  glove 
Into  the  lists,  where  'tis  seen 
The  lion  and  tiger  between. 


To  the  knight,  Sir  Delorges,  in  tone  of  jest, 

Then  speaks  young  Cuuiguud  fair  ; 
"  Sir  Knight,  if  the  love  that  thou  feel'st  in  thy  breast 

Is  as  warm  as  thou'rt  wout  at  each  moment  to  sweaX5 

Pick  lip,  I  pray  thee,  tlie  glove  that  lies  there  !  " 
And  the  knight,  in  a  moment,  with  dauntless  tread, 

Jum^DS  into  the  lists,  nor  seeks  to  linger, 
And,  from  out  the  midst  of  those  monsters  dread, 
Picks  up  the  glove  with  a  daring  linger. 


And  the  knights  and  ladies  of  high  degree 
With  wonder  and  horror  the  action  see. 
"While  he  quietly  brings  in  his  hand  th.e  glove. 

The  praise  of  his  courage  each  mouth  emijloys  ; 
Meanwhile,  with  a  tender  look  of  love, 

The  promise  to  him  of  coming  joys. 
Fair  Cunignnd  welcomes  him  back  to  his  plac% 
But  he  threw  the  glove  point-blank  in  her  face  • 
"Lady,  no  thanks  from  thee  I'll  receive  !" 
And  that  selfsame  hour  he  took  his  leave. 


THE  VEILED  STATUE  AT  SAIS. 


A  YOUTH,  impell'd  by  burning  thirst  for  knowledge 

To  roam  to  Sais,  in  i'air  Egypt's  land. 

The  priesthood's  secret  leurniug  to  explore, 

Had  pass'd  thro'  maiiy  a  grado  with  eager  haste, 

And  still  was  hurrviiig  on  with  fond  impatience. 

Scarce  could  tlie  Hierophant  impose  a  rein 

Upon  his  headloug  efiforts.      "  What  avails 

A  pi^rt  Av-ithout  the  whole  ?  "  the  youth  exclaim'd  ; 

''  Can  there  be  here  a  lesser  or  a  greater? 


THR  AT.ILF.D   STATUE   AT  SAIS.  183 

Tlio  truth  thou  speak'st  of,  like  mere  earthly  dross, 

Irt't  but  a  sum  that  cau  be  hi;hl  by  man 

In  hirg?r  or  in  smaller  quantity? 

Surely,  'tis  changeless,  indivi.sil  ilo  ; 

Deprive  a  harmony  of  but  one  note, 

D(  prive  the  rainbow  of  one  single  color, 

And  all  that  "nrill  rc^main  is  naught,  so  long 

As  that  one  color,  that  one  rote,  is  wanting." 


W.iilo  thus  they  converse  Jiclcl,  they  chanced  to  stand 

Within  the  prccints  of  a  lonely  temple. 

Where  a  veil'd  statue  ef  gigantic  siz3 

The  youth's  attention  caught.     In  ■wondrrmcnt 

lie  turn'd  him  tow'rd  his  gaide,  and  asli'd  him,  Rajaug, 

"Wliat  form  is  that  conceal'd  beneath  yon  veil?  " 

"  Tnitli !  "  -was  the  answer.     "What ! "  the  young  man 

cried, 
"  Wlien  I  am  striving  after  Truth  alone, 
Seek'st  thou  to  hide  that  very  Truth  from  rac  ?  " 


"  The  Godhead's  self  alone  can  answer  thee," 

Keplied  the  Hierophant.     "  '  Let  no  rash  mortd 

Disturb  this  veil,'  said  he,  *  till  rais'd  by  me ; 

For  he  wlio  dares  with  sacrilegious  hand 

To  move  the  sacred  mystic  covering, 

He '—said  the  Godhead— "      "Well?"     "wiU   see  the 

Truth.'" 
" Strangely  oracular,  indeed!      And  thou 
Hast  never  ventur'd,  then,  to  raise  the  veil  ?  " 
"  I  ?    Truly  not !     I  never  even  felt 
Tlie  least  desire. "— "  Is't  possible  ?     If  I 
Were  sever'd  from  the  Truth  by  nothing  else 
Than  tl.is  thin  guaze — "     "  And  a  divine  decree," 
His  guide  broke  in.     "  Far  heavier  than  thou  tliink'st 
Is  this  thin  gauze,  my  son.     Liglit  to  thy  hand 
It  may  be — but  most  weighty  to  thy  conscience." 


The  youth    now     sought    his    home,     absorb'd   in 
thought ; 
His  burning  wish  to  solve  the  raysteiy 
Banish'd  nil  sleep  ;  up;!n  his  eoueh  be  lay. 
Tossing  his  fev'rish  liuibs,     'Wheu  midnight  Cflm©» 


184  TirE  tehjEd  stattje  at  sais. 

He  rose,  and  tow'rcl  the  temple  timidly, 
Led  by  a  miglity  impulse,  bent  liis  -way. 
The  walls  lie  scal'd,  and  soon  one  active  spring 
Landed  the  daring  boy  beneath  the  dome. 

Behold  him  now,  in  ntter  solitude, 
Welcom'd  by  naught  save  fearful,  deathlike   silence,— 
A  silence  which  the  echo  of  his  steps 
Alone  disturbs,  as  through  the  vaults  he  paces. 
Piercing  an  oi^ening  in  tlie  cupola, 
The  moon  cast  down  htr  pale  and  silv'ry  beams, 
And,  awful  as  a  present  deity,' 
Glitt'ring  amid  the  darkness  of  the  pile. 
In  it's  long  veil  conceal'd,  the  statue  stands. 

With  hesitating  step  he  now  draws  near— 
His  impious  hand  would  fain  remove  the  v^'il — 
Budden  a  burning  chill  assails  his  bones, 
And  then  an  unseen  arm  repulses  him. 
"  Unhappy  one,  what  wouklst  thou  do  ?  "      Thus   cries 
A-  faithful  voice  within  his  trembling  breast. 
"  Woukbt  thou  profanely  violate  the  All-Holy  ?  "— 
"  '  Tis  tme  the  oracle  declar'd,  '  Let  none 
Venture  to  raise  the  veil  till  rais'd  by  me.' 
But  did  the  oracle  itself  not  add. 
That  he  who  did  so  would  behold  the  Truth  ? 
\Miate'er  is  hid  behind,  I'll  raise  the  veil. " 
And  then  he  shouted  :  "  Yes  I  I  will  behold  it !" 

"Behold  it!" 
Eepeats  in  mocking  tone  the  distant  echo. 

He  speaks,  and,  with  the  word,  lifts  up  the  veil 
Would  you  inquire  what  form  there  met  his  eye  ? 
I  know  not,— but,  when  day  appear'd,  the  priests 
Found  him  extended  senseless,  pale  as  death, 
Before  the  pedestal  of  Isis'  statue. 
'Wiiiit  had  been  seen  and  heard  by  him  when  there, 
He  never  would  disclose,  but  from  that  hour 
His  happin(  ss  in  life  had  fled  for  ever,_ 
And  his  deep  sorrow  soon  conducted  him 
To  an  untimely  grave.     "  Woe  to  that  man," 
He,  warning,  said  to  ev'ry  questioner, 
"  Woe  to  that  man  who  wins  the  Trutli  by  guilt, 
J'pr  truth  so  gain'd  will  ne'er  reward  its  owner," 


185 

THE  DIVISION  OF  THE  EARTH. 

"■  Take  the  world  !  "  Zous  excluiru'd  from  his  tkrone  in 
the  Bki(>s 
To  the  chiklren  of  man — "  take  the  Avorhl  I  uowgive  J 
It  nhall  ever  rt'miiiu  as  joiir  lieirloom  and  jJinze. 
fcjo  divide  it  as  brothers,  luid  hapjuly  live." 

Then  all  who  had  hands  sought  tlieir  share  to  obtain. 
The  young  and  tlie  aged  made  haste  to  appear  ; 

The  hnsbandmaa  seiz'd  on  tlie  fruits  of  the  plain, 
The  youth  thro'  the  forest  pursued  the  tieet  deer. 

The  merchant  t<iok  all  that  his  warehouse  could  hold, 
The  abbot  selected  the  last  year's  best  wine, 

The  king  barr'd  the  bridge  s, — the  highways   controll'd, 
And  said,   "  Now  remember,  the  tithes  shall  be  mine  !  " 

But  when  the  division  long  settled  had  been. 
The  poet  drew  nigh  from  a  far  distant  land  ; 

But  alas  !  not  a  remnant  was  now  to  be  st>en, 

Each  thing  on  the  earth  owu'd  a  master's  command. 

'•  Alas  !  shall  then  T,  of  thy  sons  the  most  irue, — 
Shall  I,  'niougst  them  all,  be  forgotten  alone  ?  " 

Thus  loudly  he  cried  in  his  anguisli,  and  threw 
Himself  in  despair  before  Jupiter's  throne. 

•'If  thou  in  the  region  f)f  dreams  didst  delay. 
Complain  not  of  me,"  the  Immortal  replied; 

"When  the  world  was  apportiou'd,  where  then  were 
thou,  jn-ay?" 
"I  was,"  said  the  poet,   " I  was — by  thy  side  ! " 

*^  Mine  eye  was  then  fix'd  on  thy  features  so  bright, 
Mine  ear  was  entranced  by  thy  harmony's  power ; 

Oh,  pardon  the  spirit  tliat,  aw'd  by  thy  light, 

All  things  of  the  earth  could  forget  in  that  hour  !  " 

"What  to  do?"  Zeus  exclaim'd,— "  for  the  world  has 
been  given  ; 

The  harvest,  th.e  market,  the  chase,  are  not  free ; 
But  if  thou  with  me  wilt  abide  in  my  heaven. 

Whenever  thou  com'st,  'twill  be  open  to  thee  1 " 


^86  THE   IDEAlj   AND   LIFE. 

THE   UNKNOWN   MAIDEN. 

JCh  a  deep  vale,  'mongst  simple  swains, 
Appear'd  with  each  returuing  spring, 

Soon  as  the  lark  began  his  strains, 
A  maid,  of  beauty  ravishing. 

That  vale  was  not  her  native  place. 
And  where  she  came  from,  none  could  tell  s 

Yet  of  her  steps  was  left  wo  trace 
Soon  as  the  maiden  said  farewell. 

Each  heart  was  glad  when  she  was  seen, 

With  nobler  aspirations  fir'd; 
And  yet  her  grace,  her  lofty  mien 

With  silent  awe  each  breast  iuspir'd. 

She  with  her  brought  both  flowers  and  fruity 
But  ripen'd  in  far  distant  plains. 

Where  warmer  far  the  sunbeams  shoot, 
Where  a  more  bounteous  nature  reigns. 

Her  gifts  among  them  all  she  shar'd, — 
To  some  gave  fruit,  gave  flowers  to  some. 

The  youth,  the  old  man  silver-hair'd. 
Alike  rewarded  sought  their  home. 

To  her  was  welcome  every  guest ; 

Yet  if  approach 'd  a  luvi'ng  ])air,' 
To  them  she  ever  gave  her  best. 

The  flowers  her  store  contain'd  most  fair- 


THE  IDEAL  AND  LIFE. 

Smooth  and  ever-clear  and  ciystal-bright 
Plows  existence,  zephyr-light. 

In  Olympus,  where  the  blest  reclines. 
Moons  revolve,  and  ages  pass  away ; 
Chan^elessly  'mid  ever-rife  decay 


THE   iDEAli  AND  LIFE.  187 

Bloom  the  roses  of  tlieir  youth  divine. 
Mill!  h;iH  hat  a  Bad  choice  left  liiia  now, 

Sensual  bliss  and  soul-repose  between; 
But,  upon  the  gi-ea  Celestial's  brow, 

Wedded  is  their  lustre  seen. 

Wculdst  thou  lievo  he  like  a  deity, 
In  the  realm  of  death  be  free, 

Never  seek  t    paick  its  garden's  fruit  I 
On  its  beait;,  thou  may'st  fc^ast  thine  eye  ; 
feoou  -wild  longiu^r's  injpidBcs  will  fly. 

And  enjoyment's  transient  bliss  pollute. 
JE't  n  the  .'^tyx,  that  nine  times  flows  around, 

Ceres'  child's  return  could  not  delay  ; 
But  she  gras])ed  the  apple, — and  was  bound 

Evermore  liy  Orcus'  sway. 

Boilics  only  yonder  powers  can  biad 
By  "whom  gloomy  fate  is  twin'd ; 

But,  set  free  from  each  restraint  of  time, 
Blissful  Nature's  playmate,  Fokm,  so  bright. 
Beams  forever  o'r r  tlie  plains  of  light, 

'Mongst  the  Deities,  herself  sublime. 
Wo-uldst  thou  on  her  pinions  soi;r  on  high, 

Far  away  each  earthly  sorrow  throw  1 
To  the  ideal  realm  for  refuge  fl}- 

From  this  narrow  life  below  ! 

Free  from  earthly  stain,  and  ever  jouug. 
Blest  Perfection's  rays  among. 

There  humanity's  fair  form  is  view'd, 
As  life's  silent  iDhautoms  brightly  gleam 
While  they  wander  near  the  Stygian  stream. 

Or,  as  in  the  heav'nly  fields  they  stood, 
Ere  the  great  Immortal  went  its  way 

Down  to  the  sarcophagus  so  drear. 
If  in  life  the  conflict- scales  still  sway 

Doubtfully,  the  triumph's  here. 

Not  to  free  the  weaiy  limbs  from  strife. 
Not  to  give  the  faint  new  life, 

Blooms  the  fragrant  wreath  of  victory. 
Tho'  thy  iK'rvcs  may  rest,  yet  fierce  and  strong, 
In  its  stream  life  bears  thee  still  along, 

In  its  whirling  dance  Time  hurries  thee. 


188  THE  IDEAli  AND  tlFE. 

Bdt  plioiild  courage'  daring  ivicg  not  brook 
Sad  confinement's  painful  sense  to  bear, 

Tlien  the  soaring  Aim  "with  joy  may  look 
Down  from  Beauty's  liill  so  fuir. 

If  'tis  good  to  govern  and  defend, 
Wrestlers  bravely  to  contend 

On  the  path  of  foitune  or  reno-wn, — 
Then  let  boldness  wreak  itself  in  force, 
And  the  chariots  on  the  dust-strown  course 

Blend  together,  as  they  tliundt  r  down. 
Courage  only  here  tlie  prize  can  find 

Of  the  victor  in  the  Hijjpourome, — 
'Tis  the  strong  alone  who  Fate  can  bind 

When  the  weak  are  overcome. 

But  although,  when  rocks  its  bed  inclose, 
Wildly  foaming  ou  it  flows, 

Softly,  smoothly  runs  life's  gentle  stream 
Over  Beauty's  silent  shadow-land, 
While,  iipon  its  silvery  waters'  strand, 

Hesper  and  Aurora  paint  each  beam. 
Melted  into  soft  and  muinal  love, 

Blended  in  tlie  haj^py  bond  ci  grace, 
Fiery  impulses  here  cease  to  move. 

And  the  foe  has  fled  the  place. 

If  to  animate  what  erst  was  dead. 
If  with  matter  now  to  wed, 

Active  genius  kindles  into  flame. 
Let  then  industry  strain  ev'ry  nerve. 
Let  the  thought's  courageous  wrestling  serve 

E'en  the  hostile  element  to  tame. 
Truth's  deep-buried  spring  can  only  flow 

To  the  steadfast  will,  tnat  wearies  ne'er  ; 
Only  to  the  chisel's  heavy  blow 

Yields  the  brittle  marble  e'er. 

Piercing  even  into  Beauty's  sphere, 
In  the  dust  still  lingers  hero 

Gravitation,  with  the  world  it  sways  : 
Not  from  out  tlie  mass,  with  labor  wrung, 
Light  and  graceful,  as  from  nothing  sprung. 


THE  IDEAL   AND  LIFE.  189 

Stands  tho  image  to  the  ravishM  gaze. 
AuUi  is  ev'ry  Btrnirglo,  cv'iy  Joubt, 

lu  the  C(  rtiiin  glow  i>i  victury  ; 
While  each  witiif  bs  heuce  is  di'iven  out 

Of  frail  mau'j  necessity. 

WTien  thou  8ccst  the  mighty  precept  placed 
In  Humanity's  sad  waste, 

Or  when  to  the  Holy,  guilt  draws  uigh, 
Theu  thy  virtue  v/ell  m.iy  pallid  be 
In  the  rays  of  truth, — despondingly 

From  the  Ideal  shamefaced  action  fly» 
Naiighfc  created  e'(>r  surmounted  this, 

Not  a  bark,  no  bridge's  span  can  bear 
Safely  o'er  that  terrible  abyss, 

And  no  anchor  catches  there. 

But,  by  fleeing  from  the  sense  confin'd 
To  the  freedom  of  the  mind, 

Ev'ry  dre  .m  of  f^^ir  thou'it  find  thence  flowi:. 
And  the  endless  depth  itseli  will  fill ; 
If  thou  tak'st  the  Godhead  in  tliy  will, 

'Twill  soar  upwards  from  its  earthly  throne. 
Servile  minds  alone,  that  scorn  its  swma-, 

Are  subdued  by  precept's  rigid  rod  ; 
With  the  man's  resistance  dies  away 

E'en  the  glory  of  the  God. 

When  thou  art  weighd  down  by  humm  ciu-e. 
When  the  son  of  Priam  there 

Strives  against  the  snakes  with  speechless  pain. 
Then  let  man  revolt  I     Then  let  his  cry 
To  the  canopy  of  heaven  mount  high, — 

Let  thy  feelmg  heaii  be  n-nt  in  twain  ! 
Let  the  radiant  cheek  of  joy  turn  pale. 

Nature's  fearful  voice  triumphant  be. 
And  let  holy  pvmpathy  prevail 

O'er  thine  immortality  ! 

But  in  yonder  blissfrd  realms  afar. 
Where  the  forms  unsullied  are, 

Sorrow's  mournful  tempests  cease  to  rarCc 
Tliere  ri-tleetion  cannot  pierce  the  soul. 
Tears  of  anguish  there  Xio  longer  roll, 


f90  PAKABLES  AND  EIDDLES. 

Naught  remains  but  mind's  resistance  brav& 
Beauteous  e'en  as  Iris'  color"(l  bow 

On  the  tLunder-clond's  poft  vaporous  dew, 
Glimm'ring  through  the  dusky  veil  of  woe 

There  is  seen  pest's  radiant  bhxe. 

Great  Alcides  erst  iu  endless  strife 
Trod  the  weary  path  of  life, 

Humbled  e'en  tiie  coward's  slave  to  be,— 
Jaugg'd  the  lion,  and  the  hydra  fought ; 
Into  Charon's  bark,  he,  dreading  naught. 

Plunged  alive,  that  he  his  friend  might  fres. 
All  the  heavy  loads  tiiat  earth  L) rings  forth, 

On  the  shoulders  of  the  hated  one, 
By  the  Goddess  are  heap'd  up  in  wrath. 

Till  at  length  his  race  is  run. 

Till  the  god  soars  hence  like  some  bright  flame. 
Casting  off  his  earthly  frame. 

And  the  sether's  balmy  incense  drinks. 
In  his  new  unwonted  pinions  glad, 
UlJward  flies  he,  and  the  vision  sad 

Life  hiid  fashion'd,  si;dvs,  and  sinks,  and  sinks 
Harmony,  that  of  Olympus  speaks, 

flails  the  blest  one  where  Kronion  lives, 
And  the  Goddess  with  the  rosy  cheeks 

Smilingly  the  chalice  gives. 


PARABLES  AND   .RIDDLES, 


A  BRIDGE  of  pearls  ilg  fonn  upreart 
High  o'er  a  grey  and  misty  set ; 

jG'en  in  a  moment  it  appears, 
And  rises  ujjwards  giddily. 

Beneath  its  arch  can  find  a  road 

The  loftiest  vessel's  mast  most  high. 

Itself  hatli  never  born  a  load. 
And  seems,  when  thou  draw'st  near,  tc 


I'AR.Vm.F.S  AND  I?IDr>LES.  19T 

it  comes  first  willi  lli<>  utrofim,  and  goes 

Soon  ns  tlie  wiit'ry  11' "ul  is  ilricil. 
Wliere  nmy  Vie  found  tliis  bridge,  disclose^ 

And  wbo  its  beauteous  form  supplied  1 


n. 


ifc  bears  thee  many  a  mile  away, 
And  yet  its  pliioe  it  changes  ne'er; 

It  has  no  pinions  to  display, 
And  yet  conducts  thee  through  the  air. 


It  is  the  bark  of  swiftest  motion 
Tliat  every  weary  w nndcrer  bore  ; 

With  sj^ecHl  of  tliought  the  greatest  oceaii 
It  carries  thee  i!i  safety  o'er  ; 
One  moment  wafts  thee  to  the  shore. 


m. 


Upon  a  spacious  meadow  play 
Thoiisands  of  sheep,  of  eilv'iy  hue  ; 

And  as  wo  see  them  move  to-day, 
The  man  most  aged  saw  them  too. 


They  ne'er  grow  old,  and,  from  a  rill 
That  never  dries,  their  life  is  drawn  ; 

A  shepherd  watches  o'er  tlu>m  still. 
With  curv'd  and  beauteous  silver  horn. 

He  drives  them  out  through  gates  of  gold. 
And  ev'ry  night  their  number  counts  ; 

Yet  ne'er  has  lost,  of  all  his  fold. 

One  lamb,  though  oft  that  path  he  mouutfe 

A  hound  attends  him  faithfully, 
A  nimble  ram  precedes  the  v/ay ; 
Canst  Ihou  jioint  out  that  llock  to  me. 

And  who  the  shepherd,  canst  thou  say  ? 


1&2  ^AEABLES  AND  felDibriS. 

IV. 

£here  stands  a  dwelling,  vast  and  tall. 

On  nuseen  cohimns  fair  ; 
iAo  -wanderer  treads  or  leaves  its  hall. 

And  none  can  linger  there. 

Its  wondrous  stmctnre  first  was  plann\| 

"With  art  no  mortal  knows  ; 
It  lights  the  lamps  with  its  own  hand 

'Mongst  which  it  brightly  glows. 

It  has  a  roof,  as  crystal  bright, 
Form'd  of  one  gem  of  dazzling  lighi  | 
Yet  mortal  eye  has  ne'er 
Seen  Him  who  placed  it  there. 


V. 


Within  a  well  two  buckets  lie 
One  mounts,  and  one  descends  ; 


When  one  is  full,  and  rises  high 


» 


0-^3 


The  other  downward  wends. 

They  wander  ever  to  and  fro— 
Now  empty  are,  now  overflow. 
If  to  the  mouth  thou  liftest  i/iis. 
That  hangs  within  the  dark  abyss. 
In  the  same  moment  they  can  ne'er 
"Afresh  thee  with  their  treasures  fair. 


VI. 

Know'st  thou  the  form  on  tender  f^roundr 

It  gives  itself  its  glow,  its  light ; 
And  though  each  moment  changing  fouii4 

Is  ever  whole  and  ever  bright. 
In  narrow  compass  'tis  confin'd, 

Within  the  smallest  frame  it  lies  ; 
let  all  things  great  that  move  tliy  mincL 

That  form  alone  to  thee  supplies. 


Anrt  cnnst  thou,  too,  tlio  crystal  name  ? 

No  gem  can  equal  it  in  Avortli ; 
It  gleams,  yet  kindles  ne'e  r  to  flame, 

It  Bneks  in  even  all  tlie  earth. 
Within  its  briglit  ai.d  vondrons  ring 

Is  pictnr'd  forth  tlie  glow  of  heaven, 
And  yet  it  mirrors  bade  each  thing 

Par  fiiirer  than  to  it  'twas  given. 

Il'or  ages  an  edifice  hero  has  been  found, 

It  is  not  a  dwelling,  it  is  not  a  fane  ; 
A  horseman  for  linndreils  of  days  may  ride  round. 

Yet  the  end  of  his  journey  he  ne'er  can  attain. 

Full  raaii;y  a  century  o'er  it  has  pass'd, 

The  might  of  the  storm  and  of  time  it  defies ; 
'Neath  the  rainbow  of  Heaven  stands  free  to  th€ 
last, — 
In  the  ocean  it  dips,  and  soars  up  to  the  skies. 
It  was  not  vain  glory  that  bade  its  erection. 
It  serves  as  a  refuge,  a  shield,  a  protection  ; 
Its  like  on  the  earth  never  yet  has  been  known 
And  yet  by  man's  hand  it  is  fashion'd  alone. 


vui. 

Amongst  all  sei-pents  there  is  one. 

Born  of  no  earthly  bi'eed  ; 
In  fnrv  wild  it  stands  alone. 

And  in  its  matchless  speed. 

"With  fearful  voice  and  headlong  forod 

It  rushes  on  its  prey. 
And  sweei^s  the  rider  and  his  horsa 

In  one  fell  swoop  away. 

The  highest  point  it  loves  to  gain  ; 

And  neither  bar  nor  lock 
Its  fiery  onslauglit  can  restrain  ; 

And  arms, — invite  its  shock. 


194  PAEABLES  AND  KIDDLKS. 

It  tears  in  twain  like  tender  grass, 

The  strongest  forest-tree ; 
It  grinds  to  dust  the  liarden'd  brass, 

Tlioiigh  stout  and  firm  it  be. 

And  yet  tliis  beast,  that  none  can  tame. 
Its  threat  ne'er  twice  fulfils  ; 

It  dies  in  its  self-kindled  flame. 
And  dies  e'en  when  it  kills. 


IX. 


We  children  six  our  being  had 

From  a  most  strange  and  wondrous  paiTj, 
Our  mother  ever  gTave  and  sad, 

Our  father  ever  free  from  care. 

Our  wtues  we  from  both  receive, — 

Meekness  from  her,  from  him  our  light ; 

And  so  in  endless  youth  we  weave 
Bound  thee  a  circling  figure  bright. 

We  ever  shun  the  caverns  black, 
And  revel  in  the  glowing  day  ; 

'Tis  we  who  light  the  world's  dark  track; 
With  our  life's  clear  and  magic  ray. 

Spring's  joyful  harbingers  are  we, 
And  her  inspiring  strains  we  swell ; 

And  so  the  lioiise  of  death  we  flee, 
For  life  alone  must  round  us  dwell. 

Without  us  is  no  perfect  bliss, 

When  man  is  glad,  we,  too,  attend, 

And  Tviien  a  monarch  worshipetl  is, 
To  him  our  majesty  we  lend. 

X. 

What  is  the  thing  esteem'd  by  few  ? 

The  monarch's  hand  it  decks  with  pridSj 
Yet  it  is  mnde  to  injure  too, 

And  to  the  bword  is  most  allied. 


PARABLES  AND  RIDDLES.  193 

No  blood  it  slieds,  yet  many  a  wound 

Inflicts, — f^ives  -wealth,  jct  takes  from  none  ; 

Has  vaiKjiiisli'd  e'eu  tlie  earth's  wide  round, 
And  makes  life's  current  smoothly  run. 

The  greatest  kingdoms  it  has  fram'd, 

The  oldest  cities  rear'd  from  dust, 
Yet  war's  fierce  torch  has  ne'er  inflam'd  ; 

Happy  are  they  who  iu  it  trust  1 


XI. 


I  live  within  a  dwelling  of  stone, 

There  buried  iu  slumber  I  dally  ; 
Yet,  arm'd  with  a  weapon  of  iron  alone. 

The  foe  to  encounter  I  sally. 
At  first  I'm  invisible,  feeble,  and  mean. 

And  o'er  mo  thy  breath  has  dominion  ; 
I'm  easily  drown'd  in  a  rain-drop  e'en, 

Yet  in  victory  waxes  my  pinion. 
When  my  sistei",  all-powerful,  gives  me  her  hand, 
To  the  terrible  lord  of  the  world  I  expand. 


xn. 

Upon  a  disk  my  course  I  trace. 

There  restlessly  forever  flit ; 
Small  is  the  circuit  I  embrace. 

Two  hands  suffice  to  cover  it. 
Yet  ere  that  field  I  traverse,  I 

Full  many  a  thousand  mile  must  go. 
E'en  though  with  tempest-speed  I  fly. 

Swifter  than  arrow  from  a  bow. 

xin. 

A  bird  it  is,  whose  rapid  motion 
With  eagle's  flight  divides  the  air  ; 

A  fish  it  is,  and  parts  the  ocean. 
That  b  jre  a  greater  monster  ne'er ; 

An  elephant  it  is,  whose  rider. 

On  his  broad  back  a  tower  has  put : 


196  THE   "WALK. 

'Tis  like  the  reptile  baso,  tlie  spider, 
Wlieuever  it  extends  its  foot ; 

And.  when,  with  iron  tooth  projecting. 
It  seeks  its  o^\^l  life-blood  to  drj  in. 

On  footing  firm,  its --If  ei'ecting, 
It  braves  the  raginr^  hurricane. 


THE   WALK* 

Hatl   to  thee,  mountain   belovVl,  with    thy   glittering 
purple-dyed  summit  I 
Hail  to  tliee  also  fair  sun,  looking  so  li>viugly  on  ! 
Thee,  too,  I  hail,  thou  smiling  plain,  and   ye  murmur- 
ing lindens. 
Ay,  and  the  chorus  so  glad,  cradled   on   yonder  high 
boughs ; 
Thee,  too,  peaceable  azure,  in  infinite  measure  extending 
Round  the    dusky-hued  m  junt,  over   the   forest   so 
green,— 
Round  about  me,  who  now  from  my  chamber's  confine- 
ment escaioiug, 
And  from  vain  frivolous  talk,  gladly  seek  refuge  with 
thee. 
Through  me  to  quicken  me  runs  the  balsamic  stream  of 
thy  breezes, 
"While  the  energetical  light   freshens   the   gaze  as  it 
thirsts. 
Bright  o'er  the  blooming  meadow  the  changeable  colors 
are  gleaming, 
But  the  strife,  full  of  charms,  in  its  own   grace   melts 
away. 
Freely  the  plain  receives   me,    with   carpet  far  away 
reaching. 
Over  its  friendly  green  wanders  the  pathway  a'.ong. 
Round  me  is  humming  the   busy  bee,  and  Aviih  pinion 
uncertain 
Hovers  the  butterfly  gay  over  the  trefoil's  red  flow'r. 
Fiercely  the  darts  of  the  sim  fall  on  me, — the  zephyr  is 
silent, 
Only  the  song  of  the  lark  echoes   athwart  the  clear 
air. 

•  In  this,  88  in  all  the  rest  of  Sohiller's  Elegiacs  tUe  orJ|^al  ujeH'O 
Jias  been  retained.    (Sec /Ye/ff*e.) 


TUE   ^VAL:L  iOI 

Now  from  the  neigliboriug  copso  comes  fi  roar,  and  the 
tops  of  the  alcici'3 
Bond  low  duTVi), — iu  the  wiud  dances  the  silvery  graas  .; 
Night  nml)rosial  circles  me  round  ;  in  the  coolness  su 
fragrant 
Greets  me  a  beauteous  rooi,  form'd  by  the  beeches' 
SAVOet  shndo. 
Iu  the  depths  of  the  -wood  the  landscape  suddenly  leavse 
me, 
And  a  serpontin.'  p'lth  guidoa  up  my  footsteps  on  )iigh. 
Only  by  stealth  tau  the  light  through  the  leafy  trellii*  -A 
branches 
Sparingly  pierce,  and  the  blue  smilingly  peeps  through 
the  boughs. 
But  iu  a  moment  tho  vail  is  rcn*.,  and  the  opening  ft)rer,t 
Suddc  uly  gives  back  the  day's  glittering  brightness  to 
rue  ! 
Ooundlessly  seems  the  distance  before  my  gaze  to  bo 
stretching, 
And  in  a  purple-tinged  hill  terminates  sweetly  the 
■world. 


Deep  at  t!io  loot  of  the  mountain,  ihaf.  rindcr  me  falls 
r.way  steeply, 
Wanders  the  greenish-hued  stream,  looking  like  glass 
as  it  flows. 
Eudlessiy  under  me  see  1  the  ^tlier,  and  endlessly  o  ei 
me, — 
Giddily  look  I  above,  shudd'ringly  look  I  below. 
But  between  the  ijifinite  height  and  tie  infiuxie  hollc-:v 
Safely  the  wanderer  moves  over  a  well-guarded  path 
Smilingly  past  me  are  Hying  the  banks  all-teeming  with 
riches, 
And  the  valley  so  bright  boasts  of  its  industry  glad. 


Sec  how  yonder  hedgerows  that  sever  the  farmer's  pw 
sessions 
Have  by  Demeter  been  v/ork'd  into  the  tapettriet 
plain  ! 
Kindly  decree  of  the  law,  of  the  Deity  mortal-sustaining 
Biiice  from  the  brazen  world  Love  vauieh'd  for  evel 
away- 


198  THE  WAIig. 

But  in  freer  windings  the  measiir'd  pastures  are  trarers'd 

(Now  swallow'd  up  in  the  wood,  now  climbing  iip  to 

the  hiils) 

By  a  glimmering  streak,  the  highway  that  knits  lands 

together ; 

Over  the  smooth- flowing  stream,  quietly  glide  on  the 

rafts.  . 

Ofttimes  resound  the  bells  of  the  flocks  in  the  fields  that 
seem  living, 
And  the  shepherd's  lone  song  wakens  the  echo  again. 
iToyous  villages  crown  the  stream,  in  the  copse  others 
vanish. 
While  from   the  back  of  the  mount,  others  plunge 
wildly  below. 
Man  still  lives  with  the  laud  in  neighborly  friendship 
united, 
And  I'ound  his  sheltering  roof  calmly  repose  still  his 
fields ; 
Trustingly  climbs  the  vine   high  over  the  low-reaching 
window. 
While  round  the  cottage  the  tree  circles  its  f ar-stretch- 
iug  boughs. 
Happy  race  of  the  plain  !     Not  yet  awaken'dto  freedom, 
Thou  and  thy  pastures  with  joy  share  ia  tiie  limited 
law  ; 
Bounded  thy  wishes  all    are  by   the  harvest's  peace- 
able circuit, 
And  thy  lifetime  is  spent  e'en  as  the  task  of  the  day  ! 

But  what  suddenly  hides  the  beauteous  view  ?  a  strange 
spiric 
Over  the  still-stranger  plain   spreads   itself  quickly 
afar — 
Ooyly  separates  now,  what  scarce  had  lovingly  mingled, 
And  'tis  the  like  tliat  alone  joins  itself  on  to  tho  like. 
Orders  I  see  depicted  ;  the  haughty  tribes  of  the  pop- 
lars 
Marshaled    in   regular  jjomp,  stately  and  beauteoua 
appear. 
&.11  give  token  of  rule  and  choice,  and  all  has  its  mean- 

'Tis  tJiis  uniform  plan  points  out  the  Buler  to  me. 
Brightly  the  i^litieriug  domes  in  far-away  distance  pro* 
ciaiaa  iiiiu. 


THE  WALK.  199 

Out  of  the  kernel  of  rocks  risrs  the  city's  high  wall. 
Into  the  desert  without,  the  Fuuub  of  the  forest  are 
drivon, 
But  by  duvotion  is  lent  life  moP ;  sublime  to  thq  stone. 
Man  is  brought  into  nearer  union  with  man,   and  round 
him 
Closer,  more  actively  wakes,  swifter  moves  in  him  the 
world. 
See  !  the  emulous  forces  in  fiery  conflict  are  kindled, 
Much  they  eflect  when  they  strive,  more  they  elTect 
when  they  join. 
Thousands  of  hands  by  one   spirit  are  mov'd,  yet  in 
thousands  of  bosoms 
Beats  one  heart  all  alone,  by  but  one  feeling  inspir'd — • 
Beats  for  their  native  laud,  and  glows  for  their  ances- 
tors' precepts ; 
Here  ou  the  well-belov'd  spot,  rest  now  their  time- 
honored  bones. 


Down  from  the  heavens  descend  the  blessed  troop  of 
immortals, 
lu  the  bright  circle  divine  making  their  festal  abode; 
Granting  glorious  gifts,  they   ajjpear  :    and  first  of  all, 
Ceres 
Offers  the  gift  of  the  plough,    Hermes   the  anchor 
brings  next. 
Bacchus  the  grape,  and  Minerva  the  verdant  olive-tree's 
branches. 
Even  his  charger  of  war  brings  there   Poseidon    a* 
well. 
Mother  Cybelc  yokes  to  the  pole  of  her  chariot  the  lions. 
And  through  the  wide-open  door  comes  as  a  citizen  in. 
Sacred  stones  !    'Tis  from  ye  that  proceed  Humanity's 
founders. 
Morals  and  arts  ye  sent  forth,  e'en  to  the  ocean's  far 
isles. 
Twas  at  these  friendly  gates  that  the  law  was  spoken  by 
snges ; 
In  ihAv  Penates'  defence,    heroes   rushed  out   to  the 
fray. 
On  the  high  walls  appear'd  the   mothers,  embracing 
tlieir  infants, 
Looking  after  the  march,   till   in  the  distance  'twaii 
lost. 


200  THE  WALK. 

Then  in  prayer  tliey  threw  themselves  down,    at  the 
Deities'  altars, 
Praying  for  triumph  and  fame,  praying  for  your  safe 
return. 
Honor  and  triumph  were  yours,  but   naught  return'd 
save  your  glory, 
And  by  a  heart-touching  stone,  told  are  your  valorous 
deeds. 
"Traveler!    when  thou  com'st  to  Sparta,  proclaim  to 
the  people 
That  thou  hast  seen  us  lie  here,  as  by  the   lav/  wo 
were  bid. " 
Slumber  calmly,  ye  lov'd  ones  !  for  pprinkl'd   o'er  by 
your  life-blood, 
Flourish  the  olive-trees   there,  joyously   sprouts  the 
good  seed. 
In  its  possessions  exulting,  industry  gladly  is  kindled, 
And  from  tlie  sedge  of  the  stream  smilingly  signs  tue 
blue  God. 
Crushingly  falls  the  ax  on  the   tree,  the   Dryad  sighs 
sadly ; 
Down  from  the  crest  of  the  mount  pkinges  the  thun- 
dering load. 
Wing'd  by  the  lever,  the  stone  from  the  rocky  crevice 
is  loosen'd  ; 
Into  the  mountain's  abyss  boldly  the  miner  descends, 
Mulciber's  anvil  resoimds  with  the  measur'd  strote  of 
the  hammer  ; 
Under  the  fist's  nervouf  blows  spurt  out  tlie  spaiks  of 
the  steel. 
Brilliantly  twines  the  golden  flay  round  the  swift- whirl- 
ing spindles, 
Through  the  strings  of  the  yarn  whizzes   the   shuttle 
away. 

Far  in  the  roads   :le  pilot  calls,  and  the  vessels  are 

waiting, 
That  to  the  foreigner's  land  carry  the   produce   of 

home  ; 
Others  gladly  approach  with  th<  treasures  of  far  distant 

regions, 
High  on  the  mast's  lofty  head  flcifters  tL^e  garland  of 

mirtb. 
Seo  how  yon  markets,  those  cenfci'e,s  of  iiffo  q.nd  of  gla4' 

ness,  are  swarming:  J 


THE  WALK.  '201 

Stranpo  confusion  of  tonnes  sounds  in  the  wondering 
t'iir. 
On  to  the  pile  tlie  wealth  of  the  earth  is  heap'd  by  the 
mercliaiit, 
All  that  the  sun's  scorching  rays  bring  forth  on  Africa's 
soil, 
All  that  Arabia  prepares,    that  the   uttermost  Thule 
produces, 
High  with  heart-gladdening  stores  fills  Amalthea  her 
horn. 
Fortune  wedded  to  Talent  gives  birth  there  to  children 
immortal, 
Suckled  in  Liberty's  arms,  flourish  the  Arts   there  of 

joy- 

With  the  image  of  life   the   eyes   by  the   sculptor  are 
ravish 'd. 
And  by  the  chisel  iuspir'd,  speaks  e'en  the   sensitive 
stone. 
Skies  artificial  repose  on  slender  Ionian  columns, 

And  a  Pantheon  includes  all  that  Olympus  contains. 
Light  as  the  rainbow's  spring  through   the   air,  as   the 
dart  from  the  bowstring. 
Leaps  the  yoke  of  the  bridge   over  the   boisterous 
stream. 

But  in  his  silent  chamber  the  thoughtful   sage   is   pro- 
jectuig 
Magical  circles,  and  steals  e'en  on  the   spirit  that 
forms. 
Proves  the  force  of  matter,  the  hatreds  and  loves  of  the 
magnet, 
Follows  the  tune  through   the   air,  follows   through 
aether  the  ray. 
Seeks  the  familiar  law  in  chance's  miracles  dreaded, 
Looks  for  the  ne'er-changing  pole  in  the  phenomena's 
flight. 
Bodies  and  voices  are  lent  by  writing  to  thought  ever 
silent. 
Over  th(>  centuries'  stream  bears  it  the  eloquent  page. 
Then  to  the  wondering  gaze  dissolves  the  cloud  of  the 
fancy. 
And  the  vain  phantoms  of  night  yield  to  the   dawning 
of  day. 
Man  now  breaks  through  his  fetters,  the  happy  One  J 
Oh,  let  him  never       * 


202  THE  WALK. 

Break  from  the  bridle  of  shame,    when  from  fear's 

fetters  he  breaks  ! 
Freedom  !  is   Reason's  cry, — ay.  Freedom  !     The  wild 

raging  passions 
Eagerly  cast  off  the  bonds  nature  divine  had  impos'd. 


^h  !  in  the  tempest  the  anchors  break  loose,  that  warn- 
ingly  held  him 
On  to  the  shore,  and  the  stream  tears  him  along  in  its 
flood, — 
Into  infinity  whirls  him, — the  coasts  soon  vanish  before 
him, 
High  on  the  mountainous  waves  rocks  all-  dismasted 
the  bark  ; 
Under  the  clouds  are  hid  the  steadfast  stars  of  the  chariot, 
Naught  now  remains, — in  the  breast  even  the  God 
goes  astray. 
Truth  disappears  from  language,  from  life  all  faith  and 
all  honor 
Vanish,  and  even  the  oath  is  bxit  a  lie  on  the  lips, 
[nto  the  heart's  most  trusty  bond,  andinto  love's  secrets, 
Presses  the  sycophant  base,  tearing  the  friend  from 
the  friend. 
Treason  on  luEocence  leers,  ^ith  looks  that  seek  to  de- 
vour, 
And  the  fell  slanderer's  tooth  kills  with  its  poisonous 
bite.  < 

In  the  dishonored  bosom,  thought  is  now  venal,  and 
love,  too. 
Scatters  abroad  to   the  winds,  feelings  once  God-like 
and  free. 
All  thy  holy  symbols,  O  Truth,  Deceit  has  adopted, 
And  has  e'en  dar'd  to  pollute  Nature's  own  voices  so 
fair. 
That  the  craving  heart  in  the  tumult  of  gladness  dis- 
covers ; 
True  sensations  are  now  mute  and  can   scarcely  be 
heard. 
Justice  boasts  at  the  tribune,  and   Harmony  vaunts  >u 
the  cottage, 
While  the  ghost  of  the  law  stands  at  the  throne  of  the 
king. 
Tears  together,  ay,  centuries  long,  may  the  mummy 
<5ontinue, 


Tnn  WALK.  203 

And  tlio  deception  onduro,  apinpr  thn  fulness  of  life. 
iQutil  Nature  awukcs,  nud  with  hands    all- brazen  and 
heavy 
'Gainst  the  hollow  form'd  pile   Time  and  Necessity 
strikes. 
Like  a  tif^ress,  who,  bursting  the  massive   grating  of 
iron, 
Of  her  Numidinn  wood  suddenly,  fearfully  thinks, — 
So  witli  the  fury  of  crime  and  an;^uish,  humanity  rises 
Hoping  nature,  long  lost,  iu  the  town's  ashes  to  tind. 
Oh  then  open,  ye  walls,  and  set  the  captive  at  freedom  1 


To  the  long  desolate    plains  let  him   in  safety   re- 
turn ! 
But  where  am  I  ?      The  path  is  now  hid,  declivities 
rugged 
Bar,  with  their  wide  yawning  gulf,  progress  before 
and  behind. 
Now  far  behind  me  is  left  the  gardens'  and  hedges'  sure 
eccort. 
Every  trace  of  man's  hand  also  remains  far  beldnd. 
Only  the  matter   I    see  piled  up  whence  life  has  its 
issue. 
And  the  raw  mass  of  basalt  waits  for  a  fashioning 
hand. 
Down  through  its  channel  of  rock  the  torrent  roaringly 
rushes, 
Angrily  forcing  a  path  under  the  roots  of  the  trees. 
AU  is  here  wild  and  fearfully  desolate.     Naught  but  the 
eagle 
Hangs  in  the  lone  realms  of  air,  knitting  the  world  to 
the  clouds. 
Not    one   zephyr   on    soaring    pinion    conveys   to    my 
hearing 
Echoes,  however  remote,   marking  man's  pleasures 
and  pains. 
Am  I  iu  truth,  then,  alone  ?    Within  thine  arms  on  thy 
bosom. 
Nature,  I    lie    once    again! — Ah,   and  'twas    only  a 
di'eam 
That  assail'd  me  with  horrors  so  fearful ;  with  life's 
dreaded  phantom, 
And  with  the  down- rushing  vale,  vanished  the  gloomy 
one  too. 


^04  tv:b  song  op  the  bell. 

Purer  my  life    I  receive    again  from  thine    Jtar  un- 
snilitd, — 
Purer  receive  the  bright  glow  felt    by  m/  youth's 
hopeful  days. 
Ever  the  will  is  changing  its  aim  and  its  rule,  while  for 
ever 
In  a  still  varying  form,  actions  revolve  round  them- 
'  selves. 

But  in  enduring  youth,  in  beauty  ever  renewing. 

Kindly  Nature,  with  grace  thou  dost  revere  the  old 
law! 
Ever  the  same  for  the  man  in  thy  faithful  hands  thou 
preservest 
That  which  the  child  in  its  sport,  that  which  the  youth 
lent  to  thee ; 
At  the   same  breast  thou  dost  suckle  the  ceaselessly- 
varying  ages ; 
Under  the  same  azure  vault,  over  the  same  verdant 
earth. 
Races,  near  and  remote,  in  harmony  wander  together, — ■ 
See,  even  Homer's  own  sun  looks  on  its,  too,  with  a 
smile  i 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  BELL 

VIVOS   VOCO.       MOETUOS    PLANGO.      FULGCRA   FKANGO. 

WaijIj'd  securely  in  the  ground, 

Stands  the  mould  of  well-bak'd  clay: 
Comrades,  at  your  task  be  found! 
We  must  cast  the  Bell  to-day! 
Fi'oip  the  b'.irning  brow 
Sweat  must  run,  I  trow, 
"Would  we  have  our  work  commended — 
Blessings  must  hi  heaven-descended. 

A  solem-u  word  nny  well  befit 

The  task  we  sol'unnly  prepare; 
"When  goodly  converse  hallows  it. 

Tlie  labor  flows  on  gladly  there. 
Let  us  obs.  rve  with  careful  eyes 

What  thro'  deficient  strength  escapes, 


THE  BONO   OF   THE  BELti.  205 

Tlio  tliou/^htless  man  we  must  Jospiao, 
Who  disi-fgards  tlio  tiling  ho  sliapoa, 

This  forms  a  muu's  cliicf  attribute, 
And  Reasou  is  to  him  ussign'd, 

Tbat  what  his  hand  uiay  execute, 

Within  his  heart,  too,  he  should  find 


Heap  ye  up  the  piuewood  first, 
Wt  full  dry  it  needs  must  bo, 
That  the  smother'd  flamo  may  buret 
Fiercely  through  the  cavity  ! 
Let  the  copper  brew  • 
Quick  the  tiii  adil  too, 
That  the  tough  bell-metal  may 
Fuse  there  iu  the  jiropt'r  \vay  ! 

The  Bell  that  in  the  dam's  deep  hole 

Our  hands  vith  lull)  of  tire  prepare, 
From  the  high  belfry- tower  v,\A  toll, 

Aad  witness  of  us  loudly  bear. 
'Twill  there  endure  till  distant  days. 

On  many  an  ear  its  souuds  will  dwell. 
Sad  wailings  with  the  mourner  raise, — 

The  choms  of  devotion  swell. 
Whatever  changeful  fate  may  bring 

To  be  man's  portion  l.ere  below, 
Against  its  metal  crown  will  ring. 

And  through  the  nations  echoing  go. 

Bubbles  white  I  see  ascend  ; 

Good !  the  heap  dissolves  at  last; 
Let  the  potash  with  it  blend. 
Urging  on  the  ftision  fast. 
Foam  and  biibblefree 
Must  the  mixtu'.e  be, 
That  from  metal  void  of  Btaiu 
Pure  and  full  may  rise  the  strain. 


For  in  a  song  with  gladness  rife, 
The  cherish'd  child  it  loves  to  greet. 

When  first  he  treads  the  path  of  life. 
Wrapt  in  the  arms  of  slumbers  eweet  j 


206  THE   SONG   OF   THE  BELli. 

His  coming  fata  of  joy  or  gloom 
Lies  buried  in  the  future's  wcmb  ; 
Tlie  tender  cares  that  raothers  prove 
His  golden  morning  guard  with  love  : 

The  years  ■with  arrowy  swiftness  fleet. 
The  iDroud  boy  bids  the  maid  auieu, 

And  iuto  life  with  wildness  flies, 
The  world  on  pilgrim's-staff  roams  through,- 

Then  as  a  stranger  homeward  hies ; 
And  gracefully,  in  beauty's  pride, 

Like  to  some  lieav'nly  image  fair, 
Her  modest  cheeks  with  blushes  dyed. 

He  sees  the  maiden  standing  there. 
A  nameless  yearning  now  appears 

And  fills  his  heart ;  alone  he  strays, 
His  eyes  are  ever  moist  with  tears. 

He  shuns  his  brothers'  noisy  plays; 
Her  steps  he  blushingly  pursues. 

And  by  her  greeting  is  made  blest. 
Gathers  the  flow'rs  of  fairest  hues, 

With  which  to  deck  his  true  love's  breast. 
Oh,  tender  yearning,  blissful  hope. 

Thou  golden  time  of  love's  young  day  ! 
Heav'n  seems  before  the  eye  to  ope, 

The  heart  in  rapture  melts  away. 
Oh  may  it  ever  verdant  prove. 
That  radiant  time  of  early  love  I 


Dusky-hued  becomes  each  pipe  ! 

Let  me  plunge  this  rod  in  here  : 
All  for  casting  will  be  ripe 
When  we  see  it  giaz'd  appear. 
Comrades  stand  ye  by  I 
Now  the  mixtiire  try. 
If  tlio  brittle  will  combine 
With  the  soft  propitious  sign  1 


For  there  is  heard  a  joyous  sound 
Where  sternness  is  witli  softness  bound, 

Where  joins  the  gentle  with  the  strong 
Who  binds  himself  for  ever,  he 
Should  prove  if  heart  and  heart  agree  i 

The  dream  is  short,  repentance  long. 


tHG  SONG  OP  *nK  TiT.tU  20"? 

rhroTTgli  tho  bride's  f:iir  locka  so  cleat 

Twiiios  the  virgin  chaplet  bright, 
Win  11  tliG  cluirch-bells,  ringing  clear. 

To  tlio  joyous  feast  invite. 
All!  life's  liappiest  festival 

Needs  must  end  life's  happy  May ; 
With  tho  vail  and  girdlo,  all 

Tho8v=*  sweet  visio  i ;  f  xle  away. 


Though  passion  may  fly. 

Yet  love  must  remain  ; 
Though  the  tlow'rot  may  die, 

Yet  the  fruit  scents  the  plain. 
Man  must  gird  for  his  race 

Thro'  tho  stern  j^aths  of  life. 

Midst  turnioil  and  strife, 

Must  i^hiut  and  must  form, 

Gain  by  cunning  or  storm  ; 

Must  wager  and  dare, 

Would  he  reach  fortune  e'er. 
Then  wealth  without  ending  upon  him  soon  pours, 
His  granaries  all  overflow  with  rich  stores  ; 
The  rooms  is  enlarged,  and  his  house  grows  apace  ; 

And  o'er  it  is  ruling 

The  housewife  so  modest. 

His  children's  dear  mother  ; 

And  wisely  she  governs 

The  circle  of  home. 


The  maidens  she  trains. 

And  the  boys  slie  restrains, 

Keeps  plying  for  ever 

Her  hands  that  flag  never. 

And  wealth  helps  to  raise 

Witli  her  orderly  ways, 
The  sweet-scented  presses  with  treasures  piles  high. 
Bids  the  thread  round  tho  fast-whii-ling  spindle  to 

fly; 

The  cleanly  and  bright  polish'd  chest  she  heaps  full 
With  tho  tiiix  white  as  snow,    and  the   glisteuii^g 

wool ; 
All  glitter  and  splendor  ordains  for  the  best, 
And  takes  no  rest. 


Iks  SidKa  03?  THE  mtii) 

And  the  fatliei-,  -with  rapturous  pjaze, 

r'ri.m  the  far-seeing  roof  of  Lis  dwelling. 
All  his  blossoming  riches  surveys  ; 
Sees  each  projecting  pillar  and  post, 
Sees  his  baxiis,  that  of  wealth  seem  to  boast ; 
Sees  each  storehouse,  by  blessings  dowu-boru6j 
And  the  ]c:llow-lilie  waving  corn, — 
Cries  with  exalting  face  : 
*'  Firm  as  fixe  eai-th's  firm  base, 
Gainst  ali  misfortune's  powers 
Proudly  my  house  novv'  towers  I  "— 
But  with  mighty  destiny 
Union  sure  there  ne'er  can  be  ; 
Woe  advances  rapidly. 

Let  the  casting  be  bf  gun  ! 

Traced  already  is  the  breach ; 
Yet  before  we  h  t  it  run, 

Heaven's  protecting  aid  beseech  ! 
Let  the  plug  now  fly  ! 
May  God's  ho]p  be  nigh  ! 
In  the  mould  all-smoking  rush 
Fire- brown  billows  with  fierce  gush. 

Bpneficent  the  might  of  flame. 

When  'tis  by  man  watch'd  o'er,  made  tame  ; 

For  to  this  heav'nly  power  he  owes 

All  his  creative  genius  knows; 

Yet  terrible  that  power  will  be, 

When  from  its  fetters  it  breaks  free, 

Treads  its  own  path  with  passion  wild, 

As  nature's  free  and  recklf  ss  child. 

Woe,  if  it  casts  off  its  chains. 

And,  without  resistance,  growing. 
Through  tlie  crowded  streets  and  lanes 

Spreads  the  blaze,  all  fiercely  glowingi 
For  the  elements  still  hate 
All  that  mortal  hands  create. 
From  the  clouds  all  blessings  rill, 
'Tis  the  clouds  that  rain  distill; 
From  the  clouds,  with  quivering  beams, 
Lightning  gleams. 


There  Is  no  rhymu  to  thia  line  in  the  original. 


TilK   SONO   OF  THE   nrcLli.  iiO** 

Prom  3'on  towor  the  -wnilinf^  sound 
Spri'iiil-s  the  lire  alarm  aruuud  ! 
Blood- red,  lo  ! 

Are  the  skios ! 
Ent  't's  not  tlie  day's  clear  glow  I 

Kmoke  up  liies! 
Loud  the  shout 
Round  about! 
ITijrh  the  licry  column  glows, 
Tlironf,'h  the  streets'  far-strctchinf^  rows 
On  with  lightning  speed  it  goes. 
Hot  as  from  au  oven's  T>onib, 
Burns  the  air,  while  bean;ii  consume, 
Windows  rattle,  pillars  fall, 
Childi'en  wail  and  mothers  call. 
Beasts  are  groaning, 
Underneath  tlie  ruins  moaning. 
All  their  safety  seek  in  iiight, 
Day-clear  lighted  is  tlie  nigh:. 
Through  the  hands'  ext'>nded  chain 
Flies  the  bucket  on  amain  ; 
Floods  cf  water  high  are  thrown  ; 
Howling  comes  the  tempest  on. 
Bearing  in  the  flames'  pursuit. 
Crackling  on  the  wather'd  iruit 
Falls  it, — on  the  granary, 
On  the  rafters'  timber  dry, 
Aud,  as  if  earth's  heavy  weight 

Seeking  in  its  flight  to  bear, 
Mounts  it,  as  a  giant  great. 

Wildly  thro'  the  realms  of  air. 
Man  now  los'^s  hope  at  length. 
Yielding  to  immortal  strength; 
Idly,  and  with  wond'ring  gazo, 
All  the  wTeck  he  now  surveys. 


Burnt  to  ashes  is  tlie  stead, 
Now  the  wild  storm's  rugged  bed. 
In  the  empty  window-panes 
Shudd'ring  horror  nvvf  remains. 
And  the  ckiuds  of  heaven  above 
Peep  in,  as  they  onward  move. 


SIO  tHti   SON<5   0-e  THE   BfiiiL. 

Upon  tlio  grave  where  buried  lies 
His  eartlilj  ■wealth,  his  lougiug  eyes 
The  man  one  ling'ring  moment  throws, 
Then,  as  a  pilgrim,  gladly  goes. 
"Whate'er  the  fierce  flames  may  destroy, 

One  consolation  sweet  is  left ; 
His  lov'd  one's  heads  he  counts,-  -and,  Jqv  '- 

He  is  not  e'en  of  one  bereft ! 
In  the  earth  it  now  has  pour'd, 

And  the  mould  has  fiU'd  aright ; 
Skill  and  labor  to  reward. 

Will  it  beauteous  come  to  light? 
If  the  mould  should  crack? 
If  the  casting  lack  ? 
While  we  hope,  e'en  now,  alas. 
Mischief  may  have  come  to  pass ! 

To  the  dark  womb  of  holy  earth 

We  trust  what  issues  from  our  hand. 
As  trusts  the  sower  to  the  laud 

His  seed,  in  hope  'twill  have  its  birth 
To  bless  us,  true  to  Heaven's  command. 

Seed  still  more  precious  in  the  womb 
Of  earth  we  trusting  hide,  and  wait 

In  hope  that  eyen  from  the  tomb 
'Twill  blossom  to  a  happier  fate. 

Sad  and  heavy  from  the  dome 
Hark  1  the  Bell's  death-wailings  come. 
Solemnly  the  strains,  with  sorrow  fraught, 
On  her  way  a  pilgrim  now  escort. 

For  a  mother  tolls  the  Bell  ? 
For  a  fond  wife  sounds  tlie  knell ! 
Death,  regardless  of  her  chnrms, 
Tearfi  her  from  her  husband's  arms, 
From  her  cliildren tc ars  hir  too, 
Offspring  of  affection  true, 
Whom  she  cherish'd  with  the  love 
None  but  motlicrs  ere  can  prove. 
All  the  ties  their  hearts  uniting 

Are  dissolv'd  forevcrmore  ; 
She  whosti  smiie  that  liome  was  lighting 

Wanders  on  obliviou's  shore. 


THE   SON'G   OF   THE   BELU  21) 

Who  will  now  avi-rt  eacli  danger  ? 

Wlio  will  no^^eacll  care  dispel? 
In  htr  seat  wilJ  jit  a  stranger — 

She  can  nev  ,r  lovo  bo  well  I 
T-i.U  the  BtU  '/as  coolM  aright, 

Let  tho  arJuuus  labor  reBt ; 
As  the  bird  midst  foliage  bright 

Flutt<  rs,  each  may  tlius  be  blest. 
When  the  daylight  wanes, 
Free  from  duty's  cliaius 
Workmen  hear  the  vesper  chime  ; 
Masters  have  for  rest  no  time. 


Gladly  hies  tho  w^anderer  fast, 

Tlirough  the  forest-glades  so  deep, 
Tow'rd  his  own  lov'd  cot  at  last, 

Bleatiug  homeward  go  tlie  sheep  ; 
Bioad-brow'd,  smooth- slduu'd  cattle,  ali 
Bellowing  como,  and  fill  eacn  stall. 
Home  returns  tho  heavy  wain, 
Stagg'ring  'neath  its  load  of  grain. 
Many-hued,  the  garlands  lie 
On  the  sheaves,  while  gladly  fly 
To  the  dance  the  reaper-boys, — 
Hush'd  each  street  and  market  noise. 
Hound  the  caudle's  social  light 
All  the  household  now  niiite. 
Cieakingly  the  tdwn-gatt  s  close. 
Darkness  its  black  mautlo  throws 
O'er  the  earth  ;  but  yet  the  night, 
Though  it  fills  the  bad  with  awe. 
Gives  tiie  towusman  no  affright. 
For  he  trusts  the  wakeful  law. 


Holy  Order,  blessing  rife, 

Heaven's  own  child,  by  wliom  in  life 

Equals  joyously  are  bound, 

And  whose  task  'tis  towns  to  found,— 

Who  tlie  wand'ring  savage  led 

From  the  plains  he  us'd  to  tread. 


212  the'soxo  op  the  beh* 

Enter'd  the  rude  huts  of  men, 
Softening  their  vdlJ  liabits  then. 
And  who  wove  that  dearesb  band,-»e 
Love  for  liome  and  fatherland  1 

Thousand  busy  hands  are  plying. 

Into  loving  nuiou  thrown, 
,         And,  in  fiery  motion  vicing, 

All  the  forces  here  are  known. 
Under  freedom's  shelter  holy 

Man  and  master  now  unite, 
Love  th-^ir  stations,  high  or  lowly, 

And  defy  the  scorner's  might. 
Blessings  are  oiir  labor's  guerdon. 

Work  adorns  the  townsman  most  | 
Honor  is  a  king's  chief  burden, 

We  in  hands  industrious  boast. 


Peace  all-l&vely  I 

Blissful  concord  ! 

Linger,  linger 

Kindly  over  this  our  to-mi ! 
May  we  ne'er  the  sad  day  witness 
When  the  hordes  of  cruel  warriors 
Wildly  tread  this  silent  valley  ; 
When  the  heav^ens, 
That  the  eye's  bright  colors  blending 

Softly  gild 
With  the  light  of  flames  ascending. 

From  the  burning  towns  are  fill'd  I 


Let  us  now  the  mould  d -efioy. 

Well  it  has  fuliill'd  its  jart, 
That  tlie  beauteous  shape  with  joy 

May  inspire  both  eye  and  heart. 
Wield  the  hammer,  wield, 
Till  the  mantle  yield  ! 
Would  we  raise  the  Bell  on  high, 
Must  the  mould  to  atoms  ily. 
Tiio  founder  may  destroy  the  mould 

With  cunning  hand,  if  time  it  be  ; 
But  woe,  if  raging  uucontroU'd, 

The  glowing  bronze  itself  should  free  f 


THE   SONG   OP  THE  BELli.  213 

Blind-rnginf^,  like  the  crashing  thunder, 
It  bursas  its  tL>nemeut  asniid*  r, 
And,  as  I'mm  oiwn  juws  of  lull, 
Aronnd  it  spewB  destruction  fclL 
Where  forces  rule  with  senseless  might, 
No  structure  there  can  come  to  light ; 
When  mobs  themselves  for  freedom  strive. 
True  hai^piness  can  never  thrive. 

Woe,  when  within  a  city's  walls. 

Where  firebrands  secretly  are  pil'd, 
The  people,  bursting  from  their  thralls. 

Tread  their  oth  path  with  fury  wild  ! 
Sedition  then  the  Bell  surrounds. 

And  bids  it  yield  a  howling  tone  : 
And,  meant  for  none  but  peaceful  sounds, 

The  signal  to  the  fray  spurs  on. 

'* Freedom?  Equality  !  "  they  shout ; 

The  peaceful  townsman  gras^js  liis  arms. 
Molis  stand  the  streets  and  halis  ab(n:t, 

The  placa  wltli  bands  of  murderers  swarm. 
luta  hyenas  women  grow, 

From  horrors  their  amusement  draw  ; 
The  heart,  still  quivering,  of  the  foe 

With  pantlicrs  teeth  they  fiercely  gnaw. 
All  that  is  holy  is  efface  1, 

Kent  are  the  bonds  of  modesty  ; 
The  good  is  by  the  bad  repla'^ed. 

And  crime  fro.a  all  restraint  is  free. 
Death-fraught  t';e  tiger's  tooth  appears. 

To  wake  the  lion  madness  seems  ; 
Yet  the  most  fearfid  of  all  fears 

Is  man  ol)eying  his  wiUl  dreams. 
Woe  be  to  him  wh.o,  to  the  blind, 

The  heav'nly  torch  of  light  conveys  1 
It  tlirows  no  radiance  on  his  mind. 

But  land  and  town  in  ashes  lays.* 

God  hath  hcarkcn'd  to  my  vow  ! 

See,  how  like  a  star  of  gold 
Peels  the  metal  k<^rnel  now, 

Smooth  and  glistening  from  the  mould  ! 


•  The  first  French  Revolution  is  alluded  to  in  the  preceding  lines. 


214  THE  SONG  OF  THE  BELL. 

E'en  from  crown  to  base 
Simlike  gleams  its  face, 
"Wliile  the  scutcheons,  fairly  plann'd. 
Praise  the  skilful  artist's  hand. 


Now  let  us  gather  round  the  frame ! 
The  ring  let  ev'ry  workman  swell, 
That  we  may  consecrate  the  Bell ! 
CoNCOKDiA  be  henceforth  its  name. 
Assembling  all  the  loving  throng 
In   harmony  and  union  throng  ! 


And  this  be  the  vocation  fit 

For  which  the  founder  fashion'd  it ! 

High,  high  above  earth's  life,  earth's  laboR, 

E'en  to  the  heav'ns'  blue  vault  to  soar. 
To  hover  as  the  thunder's  neighbor. 

The  very  firmament  explore  ; 
To  be  a  voice  as  from  above. 

Like  yonder  stars  so  bright  and  clear. 
That  praise  their  Maker  as  they  move 

And  usher  in  the  circling  year. 
Tun'd  be  its  metal  mouth  alone 

To  things  eternal  and  sublime, 
And,  as  the  swiit-winged  hours  speed  on, 

May  it  record  the  flight  of  time  ! 
Its  tongues  to  Fate  it  well  may  lend  ; 

Heartless  itself,  and  feeling  naught, 
May  with  its  warning  notes  attend 

On  human  life,  with  change  so  fraught. 
And,  as  the  strains  die  on  the  er.r 

That  it  peals  forth  with  tuneful  might. 
So  let  it  teach  that  naught  lasts  here, 

That  all  things  earthly  take  their  flight  I 

Now  then,  with  the  rope  so  strong, 

From  the  vault  the  Bell  upweigh, 
That  it  gains  the  realms  of  song. 
And  the  heav'uly  light  of  day  ! 
All  hands  nimbly  ply  .' 
Now  it  mounts  on  high  : 
To  this  city  JoY  reveals, — 
Peace  be  the  first  strain  it  peals  I 


5J15 

THF-.   ^OWER  or  SO  NO.  • 

Thk  loaYDing  stroam  from  out  the  rock 

With  thunder  roar  begins  to  rush, — 
Tlio  oak  falls  prostnit'j  at  tlie  shock, 

And  moiiutaiu  wr^-cks  attend  the  gush. 
With  raiiturous  awP,  iu  -wonder  lost, 

The  ■wanderer  hearkens  to  the  sound 
from  clitr  to  cliff  he  hears  it  toss'd. 

Yet  knows  not  whither  it  is  bound  : 
'Tis  thus  that  song's  bright  waters  pour 
From  sources  never  known  before. 

In  union  -with  those  dreaded  ones 

That  spin  life's  thread  ail-silently,-  — 
Wlio  can  resist  the  singer's  tones  ? 

Who  from  his  magic  set  him  free  ? 
W'ith  wand  like  that  the  Gods  bestow, 

He  guides  the  heaving  bosom's  chords. 
He  steei^s  it  in  the  realms  below, 

He  bears  it,  wondering,  heavenwards. 
And  rocks  it,  'twixt  the  grave  and  gay, 
On  Feeling's  scales  that  trembling  swav. 

As  when,  before  the  startled  eyes 

Of  some  glad  throng,  mysteriously. 
With  giant-step,  in  spmt-guise. 

Appears  a  wondrous  Deity, 
Then  bows  each  greatness  of  the  earth 

Before  the  stranger,  heaven-born, 
Mute  are  the  thoughtless  sounds  of  niirth^ 

While  from  each  face  the  mask  is  torn, 
And  from  the  truth's  triumphant  might 
Each  work  of  falsehood  takes  to  flight : 

So,  from  each  idle  burden  free. 

When  summon'd  l)y  the  voice  of  song, 
Man  soars  to  spuit-dignity, 

Eeceiving  force  divinely  strong  : 
.Among  the  Gods  is  now  his  home. 

Naught  earthly  ventures  to  approach — 
All  other  powers  must  now  be  dumb, 

No  fate  can  on  his  realms  encroach  ; 
Care's  gloomy  wrinkles  disappear. 
Whilst  Music's  charms  still  Imger  here. 


216  THE  PKAISE   OF   -WOMAN. 

As,  aft^  long  and  hopeless  yearning, 

And  separation's  bilter  smart, 
A  cbUd,  with  tears  repentant  burning, 

Chngs  fondly  to  his  mother's  heai't— 
So  to  his  youthful  happy  dwelling. 

To  rapture  pure  and  free  from  stain, 
All  strange  and  false  conceits  expelling. 

Song  guides  the  wanderer  back  again, 
In  faithful  Nature's  loving  arm. 
From  chilling  precepts  to  grow  warm. 

THE  PRAISE  OF  WOMAN. 

All  honor  to  women  ! — they  soften  and  leaven 
The  cares  of  the  world  with  the  roses  of  Heaven — 

The  ravishing  fetters  of  love  they  entwine  ; 
Then-  charms  from  the  world's  eye  modestly  vailing. 
They  foster  and  nourish,  with  care  never  fahing, 

The  lu-e  eternal  of  feelings  divine. 

Man's  AvUd  force,  in  constant  motion, 

Spurns  the  bounds  l)y  truth  assigu'd  : 
And,  on  jjassiou's  stormy  ocean, 

To  and  fro  is  toss'd  his  mind. 
Peace  his  bosom  visits  never. 

As  he  heaps  up  scheme  on  scheme, 
And  through  space  pursues  for  ever 

Each  vain  phantom  of  his  di'eam. 

But  with  her  sweet  look,  so  soft  and  enchaining, 
"Woman,  the  fugitive  gently  restraining. 

Summons  him  back  to  the  regions  of  earth  : 
The  daughter  of  Nature,  with  meelmess  uTishakeU; 
The  home  of  her  mother  has  never  forsaken — 

Has  ever  been  true  to  the  place  of  her  birth. 

Man,  the  toiTent  sternly  breasting, 

Si)ends  his  days  in  ceaseless  strife  ; 
Never  paTising,  never  resting, 

While  lie  treads  the  paths  of  life. 
All  his  plans  to  ruin  bringing. 

Ne'er  his  changing  Avi.sn  grows  cold, 
"When  destroy'd,  again  up-springing, 

Like  the  Hydra's  heads  of  old. 


THE  PIUISE  OF  WOMAN.  217 

Brt  in  a  gentler  sphere  passing  her  hours, 
Woman  plucks  evor  the  moment's  sweet  jflowera. 

Lovingly  tends  them  with  fostering  care  ; 
Freer  than  man,  though  less  wiJe  her  dominiou. 
Soaring  above  him  on  wisdom's  bright  jnnion, 
Glitt'ring  in  poesy's  circle  so  fair. 


Selfishneas  and  pride  combining, 

Man's  cold  bosom  ne'er  can  prove, 
Round  a  fond  heart  fondly  twining, 

All  the  heav'nly  bliss  of  love. 
Soul  communion  never  feeling, 

Tears  to  him  no  balm  impart. 
Life's  hard  conflicts  only  steeling 

Sterner  still  his  rugged  heart. 


But  as  when  softly  to  Zephyr  replying, 
Mollis'  harp  gently  breathes  forth  its  sighing. 

The  soft  soul  of  woman  its  sighs  breathes  forth  tco 
At  the  sad  tale  of  misery  tenderly  grieving. 
See  we  her  bosom  with  sympathy  heaving. 

Her  melting  eye  sparkling  with  heavenly  dew. 


Man,  imperious,  stem,  inpulting, 

Knows  no  law  save  that  of  might ; 
Scythians  wave  their  swords  exulting,— 

Persians  tremble  in  affright. 
Furious  passions  raging  wildly 

Fiercely  struggle  day  by  day  ; 
And,  where  Charis  govern'd  mildly. 

Eria  now  asserts  her  swr' 


21S  '■ 

HOPE. 

Of  better  and  brighter  days  to  come 

Man  is  talking  and  dreaming  ever  | 
To  gain  a  happy,  a  golden  home, 

His  efforts  he  ceases  never  ; 
The  world  decays,  and  again  revives, 
But  man  for  improvement  ever  strives. 

'Tis  Hope  first  shows  him  the  light  of  iaj. 

Though   infancy  hovers  before  him, 
Enchants  him  in  youth  with  her  magic  ray„ 

Survives,  when  the  grave  closes  o'er  iiim  J 
For  wli  en  in  the  tomb  ends  his  weary  racCj 
E'en  there  still  see  we  her  smiling  face  ! 

'Tis  no  vain  flattering  vision  of  youth, 
On  the  fool's  dull  brain  descending  x 

To  the  heart  it  ever  proclaims  this  glad  truth  % 
Tow'rd  a  happier  life  we  are  tending  ; 

And  the  promise  the  voice  within  us  hath  spoken 

Shall  ne'er  lo  the  hoping  soul  be  broken. 


THE  GERMAN  MUSE. 

ifo  Aitgustan  century. 
No  propitious  Bledici 

Smil'd  on  German  art  when  young 
Glory  nourish'd  not  her  powers, 
She  unfolded  not  her  flowers 

Princes'  fav'riug  rays  among. 

From  the  mighty  Fred'rick's  throne 
Germany's  most  glorious  son, — 

Went  she  forth,  defenceless,  spurn'd ; 
Proudly  Germans  may  repeat, 
While  their  hearts  more  gladly  beat, — 

They  themselves  their  crown  have  earned. 


THE   SOWER. 

Tliercfore  mounts  with  nobler  pridj, 
Thercforo  witli  u  i'liUor  tide 

I'our«  tho  strcaiu  of  Gorman  bards  ;— 
With  his  own  abundance  swells, — 
From  the  inmost  bosom  ■welle, — 

Chains  of  method  disregards. 


21  v: 


THE  SOWER. 

See  !  with  a  heart  full  of  hope,  to  the  earth  golden  seed 
thou  eutrustest, 
Anif  with  joy  in  the  Spring,  waitest  to  see  it  appear, 
irfc  thou  miiidful  to  strew   in  the   furrows  of    Timo 
•worthy  acitions, 
TVTiich  for  Eternity  bloom,  calmly  by  wisdom's  hand 
sowu  ? 


THE  MERCHANT. 

Thither  is  sailing  the  Ship  ?    It  becrc  the  people  ol 
Sidon 
From  the  cold  realms   of  tho  ITorth,    briiiging  the 
amber  and  tin. 
Bear  it  up  gently,  G  Neptune  •  and  peacefully  roc!i  it\ 
je  zepliyrs !    - 
Lot  it  in  sheltering  bay  find  tho  refreshment;  iL needs  [ 
Tic  to  you.  yo  Godr,  that  tho  Merchant  belongs.     Seek- 
ing riches. 
Goes  he, — yet  to  hie  ship  that  which  ii3  good  ever 
clings. 


0DY8SEUG. 

Seeking  to  find  his  home,  Odysseus  crosses  each  water  : 
Through  Charybdis  so  dread  ;  ay,  and  through    Scyl- 

ia's  Avild  yells, 
through  the  alarms  of  the  raging  sea,  the  alarms  oi  the 

land  too, — 


220  CARTHAGfi. 

E'en  to  tlie  kingdom  of  Hell  leads  him  his  wandering 

course; 
And  at  length,  as  he  sleeps,  to  Ithaca's  coast  Fate  con= 

ducts  him ; 
There  he  a-wakes,   and,   with  grief,   k'  ^ws  not  Mt 

fatherland  now. 


CAR7HAGE. 

Oh  thou  degenerate  child  of  the  great  and  glorious 
mother. 
Who  Avith  the  Romans'  strong  might   couplest   the 
Tyrians'  deceit  ! 
But  those  ever  goveru'd  with  vigor  the  earth  they  had 
conquer'd, — 
These  instructed  the  world  that  they  with  cunning 
had  won. 
Say  !  what  renown   does  history  grant   thee  ?     Thou, 
Roman- like,  gainedst 
That  with  the   steel,    which  with  gold,  Tyrian-like 
then  thou  didst  rule  ! 


THE  KNIGHTS  OF  MALTA. 

NoBiiY,  in  truth,  ye  are  cloth'd  by  the  Cross's  equio 
meut  so  dreaded, 
Wheu  ye,  the  lions  in  fight,  Acctin  find  Rhodus  pro- 
tect,— 

Wlien  through  the  Syrian  deserts  ye  guide  the  sorrow- 
ing pilgrim, 
And,  with  the  Cherubim's  sword,   stand  o'er  the  Sa- 
viour's blest  tomb 

but  a  glory  still  nobler  surrounds  ye, — the  garb  of  the 
liurser. 


GKKMAN   FAITH.  221 

When  ye,  tbo  lions  iu  fight,  sons  (<i  the  race    b<>  re- 
nowu'd, 
Servo  at  tlio  bed  of  the  sick,  nfreshmcnt  prepare  for 
the  thirsty,  — 
When  ye  perform  tho  mean  rites  Christian-like  mercy 
enjoins. 
Glorious  Faith  of  the  Cross  !    thon  only  iu  one  wreath 
uniteet 
Those  two  flourishing  palms,  Meekness  «n<l  Valor,  at 
once  1 


GERMAN  FAITH." 

Once  for  the  sceptre  of  Germany,  fought  with  Bavarian 
Louis 
Fred'rick  of  Hapsburg  descent,  both   being   call'd  to 
the  throne. 
But  the  envious  fortune  of  war  deliver'd  the  Austrian 

Into  the  hands  of  the  foe,  who  overcame  him  iu  fight. 
With  the  throne  he  purchas'd  his  freedom,  pledging  his 
honor 
.  For  the  victor   to   draw   'gainst  his   own  people  his 
sword ; 
But  what  he  vow'd  when  iu  cbams,   when  free   he  could 
not  accomplish. 
So,  of  his  own  free  accord,  i)ut  on  his  fetters  again. 
Deeply  mov'd  his  foe  embraced  him, — and  from  thence- 
forwai-d 
As  a  friend  with  a  friend,  pledg'd  they  the  cup  at  the 
feast ; 
Arm-in-ann,    the   princes   on   one   couch  slumber'd  to- 
gether, 
Wliile  a  still  bloodier  hate  sever'd  the  nations  a^iart. 
'Gflinst  the  army  of  Fred'rick,  Louis  now  went,  and  be- 
hind him 
Left  the  foe  he  had  fought,  over  Bavaria  to  watch. 
"  Ay,  it  is  true  !  'Tis  i-eally  true  !  I  have  it  iu  writing  ! '' 
Thus  did  the  Pontifex  cry,  when  he  first  heard  of  the 
news. 


*  yor  this  Ititeresting  efory    see  Cox's  "House  of  Austria,"  vol.  i., 
pp.  87-98  (BoUn's  Standard  Library.) 


222 

COLUMBUS. 

On,  thou  pailor  undaunted  !     Though  shallow   witlings 
deride  thee, 
And  though  tlie  steersman  his  hand  carelessly  drops 
from  the  helm. 
On,  still  on,  tow'rd  the  West !  'Tis  there  that  the  coast 
will  first  greet  thee, 
For  to  thy  reason  it  lies  clear  and  distinct  even  now. 
Trust  to  the  guiding  God,  and  follow  the  world's  silent 
ocean ! 
And  though  as  yet  never  seen,  lo  !     it  ascends  from 
I        the  flood  ! 
With  the  intellect  Natiire  standeth  in  union  eternal  : 
And  what  is  promis'd  by  one,  that  will  the  other  fulfil. 


POMPEII  AND  HERCULANEUM. 

What  strange  wonder  is  this  ?     Our  prayer  to  thee  was 
for  water. 
Earth  !  What  is  this  that  thou  now  send'st  from  thy 
womb  in  reply  ? 
[n  the  abyss  is  there  life  ?  Or  hidden  under  the  lava 
Dwelleth  some  race  now  unknown  ?     Does  what  hath 
fled  e'er  return  ? 
Grreets  and   Romans,    oh   come  !     Oh,  see  the   ancient 
Pompeii 
Here  is  discover'd  again, — Hercules'   town  is  rebuilt ! 

Gable  on  gable  arises,  the  roomy  portico  opens 

Wide  its  halls,  so  make  haste, — haste  ye  to  fill  it  with 
life! 
Open,   too,   stands  the  spacious  theatre,  let,  then,  the 
people. 
Like  a  resistless   flood,  pour  through   its   sevenfold 
mouths  ! 
Mimes,  where  are  ye  ?     Advance  !     Let  Atridcs  finish 
the  rites  now 
He  liad  begun, — let  the  dread  chorus  Orestes  pursue  ! 
Whither  leads  yon  triumphal  arcli  ?     Perceive  ye  the 
forum  ■? 
What  are  those  figures  that  sit  on  the  Curulian  chair  ? 


POMPEII   AND   IIERCULANErM.  22'\ 

Lictors  !  prop'  do  witli  your  fasces, — and  let  the  Piffitor 
in  jiuLf^niK  lit 
Sit, — let  the  Avitness  come  forth  !  let  the  accuser  nn- 
poar  ! 
Cleanly  streets   spread  around,  aiid  with  a  loftier  pave- 
ment 
Does  the  contracted  patli  Aviud  close  to  the  houses' 
long  row  ; 
"Wliile.   to  protect  tliein,   the   roofs  in'otinide, — and  tho 
handsome  apiirtments 
llound  tlio  now  desolate  court  peacefully,  fondly  are 
ranged. 
Hasten  to  open  the  shops,  and  the  gateways  that  long 
have  heen  ehok'd  u}), 
And  let  the  biiglit  light  of  day  full   on  the  desolate 
night  ! 
See  how  around  the  edge  extend  the  bonelios  so  graceful, 
And  how  the  fi(jor  rises  np,  glitt'ring  Avith   many-huecl 
stone  ! 
Freshly  still  shines   the  wall  A\ith  colors  InuTjing  and 
glowing  ! 
Where  is  the  artist  ?     His  brush  he  has  but  now  laid 
aside. 
Teeming  Avitli  swelling  fruits,  and  flowers  dispos'd  in  fair 
order. 
Chases  the  brilliant  festoon  ravishing  images  there. 
Here,  with  a  basket  full-laden,  a  Cupid  gaily  is  dancing, 
Genie  industrious   tlicre  tread   out  the    pnii)le-dyed 
Avine. 
High  there  the  Bacchanal  dances  and  here  she  calmly  is 
sleeping, 
"Wliile  the  listening  Faun  has  not  yet  sated  his  eyes ; 
Here  she  puts  to  flight  the  swift-footed  Centaur,  sus- 
l^ended 
On  one  knee,  and,  the  Avhile,  goads  Avith  the  ThjTsus 
his  steps. 


Boys,  why  tan-y  ye  ?     Quick  !     The  bcanteous  A'ossels 
still  stand  there  ; 
Hasten,  ye  maidens,  and  ])our  into  the  Etrurian  jr.r  ! 
Does  not  the  tripod  stand  lu  i.',  on  sphinxes  gniceful  and 
Avinged  ? 
Stir  np  the  fire,  ye  slaves  !     Haste  to  make  ready  th» 
heai'th  1 


2^  Tiifi  itiA©, 

Go  and  buy  ;  Here  is  money  tliat's  coined  by  Titus  tJit, 
Mighty; 
Still  ai'e  the  scales  lying  here  ;  not  e'en  one  "weight  has 
been  lost. 
Place  the  burning  lights  in  the  branches  so  gracefully 
fashiou'd, 
And  with  the  bright-shining  oil  see  that  the  lamp  is 
supplied  ! 
What  does  this  casket  contain  ?     Oh,  see  -what  the  bride- 
groom lias  sent  thee  ! 
Maiden  !     'Tis  buckles  of  gold  ;  glittering  gems   foi 
thy  dress. 
Lead  the  bride  to  the  odorous  bath, — here  still  are  the 
unguents  ; 
Paints,  too,  are  still  lying  here,  filling  the  hollow-shap'd 
vasG. 

But  where  tarry  the  men  ?  thf  elders  ?     In  noble  museum 
Still  lies  a  heap  of  strange  rolls,  treasui-es  of  infinite 
•worth  ! 
Styles,   too,  are  here,  and  tablets  of  wax,  all  ready  for 
writing  ; 
Notldng  is  lost,  for,  with  faith,  earth  has  protected  the 
Avhole. 
E'en  the  Penates  are  present,  and  all  the  glorious  Im- 
mortals 
Meet  here  again,  and  of  all,  none,  save  the  priests,  are 
not  here. 
Hermes,  whose  feet  are  grac'd  with  wings,  his  Caduceus 
is  waving. 
And  from  the  grasp  of  his  hand  victory  lightly  escai^es. 
Still  are  the  altai's  standing  here, — oh  come,  then,  and 
kindle, — 
Longhatli  the  God  been  aAvay, — kindle  the  incen»«  te 
Himl 


THE  ILIAD. 

Teab  for  ever  the  garland  of  Homer,  and  number  tk« 
fathers 
Of  the  immortal  work,  that  through  all  time  will  sur- 
yivel 


2F.TJ.S  TO   nERCtTLES.  22/5 

ifet  it  lias  but  one  motlior,  and  bears  that  motlior'.s  o\vii 
t'eatuR'S, 
'Ti8     in.ij   features  it    bears,— Ni-ture,— thy     features 
eterno  I 


ZEUS  TO  HERCULES.* 

TwAS  not  by  moans  of  my  nectar,  that  thou  hast  made 
thee  iiumortiil  ; 
Naught  Jjut   thine  own   god-like   strength  eonquer'd 
that  nectar  for  thee. 


THE  ANTIQUE  TO  THE  NORTHERN 
WANDERER. 

Thou  ha-st  cross'd  over  torrents,    and  swim    through 
Av  iel  e-spre.ad  i  ng  ocean  s,  — 
Over  the  cluiia  of  the  Alps  dizzily  bore  thee  the  bridge, 
That  thou  might'st  see  me  from  near,  and  learn  to  value 
my  beauty, 
Wliich  the  voice    of    reuowoi    spreads    through    the 
wondering  -world. 
And  now  before  me  thou  standest, — canst  touch  my  altar 
so  holy, — 
But  art  thou  nearer  to  me,  or  am  I  nearer  to  tliee  ? 


THE  BARDS  OF  OLDEN  TIME. 

3ay,  where  is  now  that  glorious  race,  where  now  are  the 

singers 
Wlio,  with  the  accents  of  life,  listening  nations  en- 

thraird, 
^wnQ  doA\'u  from  heaven  the  gods,  and  sung  mankind  up 

to  heaven, 


*  It  i^  carious  to  soe  liow  often  Schiller  mlxos  up  the  Greek  and 
Lat.ii  Doit'CB.  Ill  SevieU,  for  iusiauce,  lie  uoes  Zeus  aud  Jupiter  iudia^ 
oriuiiuuteljr. 


226  THE  ANTIQTTES  AT  PARIS. 

And  who  tlie  spirit  bore  up  liigli  on  tlie  pinions  of 
song? 
All  !  the  singers  still  live  ;  tlie  actions  only  are  wanting, 

And  to  v,'ake  tlie  glad  liarp,  only  a  welcoming  ear. 
Happy  bards  of  a  happy  Avorld  !     Your  life-teeming  ac- 
cents 
Flew  round  from  mouth  unto  mouth,  gladdening  every 
race. 
With  the  devotion  with  which  the  Gods  were  receiv'd, 
each  one  welcom'd 
That  which  the  genius  for  him,  plastic  and  breathing, 
then  f  orm'd. 
With  the  glow  of  the  song  Avere  inflam'd  the  listener's 
senses, 
And  vnth.  the  listener's  sense,  uoiu'ish'd  the  singer  the 
.  glow,— 
Noimsli'd  and  cleans'd  it, — fortunate  one  !  for   whom  in 
the  voices 
Of  the  people  still  clear  echoed  the  soul  of  the  son{f, 
i.nd  to  whom  from  Avithout  ai3j)ear'd,  in  life,  the  greav 
Godhead, 
Whom  the  bard  of  these  days  scarcely  can  feel  in  hi 
breast. 


7H£  ANTIQUES  AT  PARIS. 


That  which  Grecian  art  created, 
Let  the  Frank,  with  joy  elated. 

Bear  to  Seine's  triumphant  strand. 
And  in  his  museums  glorious 
Show  the  trophies  all-victorious 

To  his  wond'riug  fatherland. 


'to 


They  to  him  are  silent  ever, 
Into  life's  fresh  cu'cle  never 

From  their  pedestals  come  down. 
He  alone  e'er  holds  the  muses 
IThrough  whoso  breast  their  power  diffusee,- 

To  the  Vandal  they're  but  tstouo  J 


227 
THEKLA. 

A  SPIRIT- VOICE. 


Whither  av:is  it  lliut  my  spic't  wended 

When  tniiu  tlK;^.  my  lleetiiii^  shadow  mov'df 

Is  uot  now  eacli  eartlily  couttiet  ended? 
Shv, — have  I  nut  liv'd, — liavo  I  not  lov'd? 


Art  thon  for  tlio  ni;^Utingales  inquiring 
"Wlio  eutrane'd  thee  in  the  early  year 

With  their  nu'lody  ho  joy-iuspii-ing  ? 

Only  Avhilst  the}'  lov'd,  they  lingered  hero- 


Is  the  lost  one  lo&t  to  mo  for  ever  ? 

Trust  me,  witli  liini  joyfully  I  stray 
There,  Avhere  naught  united  souls  can  sever 

And  where  ev'ry  tear  is  wiped  away. 


And  thoii,  too,  wilt  find  us  in  j-^on  heaven, 
When  thy  love  with  our  love  cau  compare 

There  my  tatJier  dwells,  his  sins  forgiven, — 
Murder  foul  cau  never  reach  him  there. 


And  h-e  feels  that  him  no  vision  cheated 
Wlieu  he  gaz'd  upon  the  stars  on  high  ;* 

For,  as  each  one  metes,  to  him  'tis  meted ; 
^^^lo  believes  it,  hath  the  Ploly  nigh. 


Faith  is  kept  iu  those  blest  regions  yonder 
With  the  feelings  true  that  ne'er  decay. 

Venture  thou  to  dream,  then,  and  to  wander  : 
Noblest  thoughts  oft  lie  iu  childlike  play. 


*  See  'Piccolominl,'  act  ii.    sceuc  C;  an  '.  '  Tliu   Death   of  "Wallen- 
■t«lii,   act  ▼.  •CtiueS. 


223 
THE  MAID  OF  ORLEANS. 

Humanity's  briglit  image  to  impak, 

Scorn  laid  tliee  i)rosti-ate  in  the  deepest  duat  ^ 

Wit  wages  ceaseless  war  on  all  that's  fair, — 
In  Angel  and  in  God  it  imts  no  trust ; 

llie  bosom's  treasures  it  Avould  make  its  ]n-ey,— 

Besieges  Fancy, — dims  e'en  Faith's  pure  ray. 

Yet,  issuing  like  thyself  from  humble  line, 
Like  thee  a  gentle  shepherdess  is  she, — 

Sweet  Poesy  alfords  her  rights  divine, 
And  to  the  stars  eternal  soars  Vyith  thee. 

Around  thy  brow  a  glory  she  hath  thrown  ; 

The  heart  'twas form'd thee, —ever  thou'lt  live  cm' 

The  world  delights  whate'er  is  bright  to  stain, 
And  in  the  dust  to  lay  the  glorious  low  ; 

Yet  fear  not !  noble  bosoms  still  remain, 
That  for  the  Lofty,  for  the  Radiant  glow. 

Let  Momus  serve  to  till  the  booth  with  rniith  ; 

A  nobler  mind  loves  forms  of  nobler  worth. 


N/ENIA 


Even  the  beauteous  must  die  1      This  vanquishes  Men 
and  InHUortals ; 
But  of  the  Stygian  God  moves  not  the  bosom  of  steel. 
Once  and  once  only  could  Love  prevail  on  the  Ruler  of 
Shadows, 
And  on  the  threshold  e'en  then,  sternly  his  gift  he  re- 
call'd. 
S^enua  could  never  heal  the  wounds  of   the  beauteous 
stripling, 
That  the  terrible  boar  made  in  his  delicate  skin  ; 
Nor  could  his  mother  immortal  preserve  the  hero  so  god- 
like, 
Wlien,  at  the  west  gate  of  Troy,  falling,  his  fate  he 
fulfdl'd. 
But  she  arose  from  the  ocean  with  all  the  daughters  of 
Nereus, 
And  o'er  her  glorified  son  rais'd  the  loud  accents  of 
woe. 


THE   PLAYIN({   CHILD.  229 

Bee  I    ■whore   all   the  gotls   ainl   g<xl(.les3es   yonder   are 
weeping, 
That  the  Beauteous  must  fade,   aud  that  the  Perfect 
must  die. 
Even  a  woc-soug  to  be  in  the  mouth  of  the  lov'd  onoa 
is  glorious, 
For  what  is  vulgar  descends   mutely  to  Orcua'  dark 
tshades. 


THE  PLAYING  CHILD. 

Play,  fs.ir  child,  iu  thy  mother's  lap  i    In  that  island 
6o  holy, 
"Witlu'iing    grief    cannot    come,    desolate    care     ".ot 
approach. 
O'er  tho  abyss  the  arms  of  thy  mother  lovingly  Iiold 
thee. 
Into  the  watery  grave  smilest  thou  guilelessly  do^.^ 
Play,  sweet  innocent,  still  !    Arcadia  yet  dwells  around 
thee. 
Nature,  as  yet  unrestrain'd,   follows  the  impulse  of 

joy- 
Still  does  luxuriant  vigor  raise  up  its  barriers  poetic — 
Duty  and  object  as  yeh  guide  not  thy  tractable  soul. 
Play,  then  !  for  soon  will  labor  ap^jroach  thee,  haggard 
and  solemn, 
And  even  duty's  command,    pleasure  and  mind  dia- 
obey. 


THE  SEXES. 

SiE    in    the    tender    child    two    beauteous     flow'ret« 
united  ! 
Maiden  and  youth  are  both  now  hid  in  tho  bud  from 
the  eye. 
Gently  loosens  the  baud,  the  natures  with  softness  are 
parted, 
And  from  tho  modest-face'd  shame,  severs  the  fiery 
might. 
Suffer  the  boy  to  pl.iv,  with  i-agiug  passions  to  bluster 
Sated  vigor  alone  turns  into  beauty  again. 


2dO  THE   SEXES. 

From  the  bud  begins  tbe  twofold  flow'ret  to  issue, — 
Both  are  precious,  but  yet,  neither  thy  yearning  heart 
calms. 
Bayishing  fulness   swells  the  blooming    limbs   of   the 
maiden, 
But,  like  her  girdle,  her  pride  watches  with  care  o'er 
her  charms. 
Shy  as  the  trembling  roe,   whom  the  hunter  pursues 
through  the  forest, 
Fliec  iJie  from  man   as  a  foe, — hates   him,    because 
sho  loves  not. 
Boldly  t.11     ■  u'oudly  looks  the  youth  from  beneath  his 
dark  eyeurow. 
And,  girdod  up  for  the  fight,  strains  to  the  utmost  his 
nerv;::. 
Far,  in  he  ';urmoil  of  spears,  and  on  the  race-course  so 
dusty. 
Hurries  him  fame's  craving  thirst,    bears   him    his 
boisterous  mind. 
Now,  grea^  Natiu'e,  protect  thy  work  !  YvTiat  seeks  itself 
ever, 
Flies,  if  thou  rivet  it  not,  ever  in  anger  apart. 
Mighty  one  !  thou  already  art  there  ;    from  the  w^'ide«t 
of  confiiets 
Thou   dost  call    forth   into   life   harmony's   concord 
divine. 

Sudden  is  hush'd  the  sound   of  the  chase ;    the  day's 
busy  echo 
Dies  on  the  ear,   and  the  stars  gently  sink  down   to 
their  rest. 
Sighing  whispers  the  reed, — soft-murmuring  glides  on 
the  streamlet. 
And  her  melodious  song  Philomel  trills  through  the 
grove. 
What  is  it  forces  a  sigh  from  the  heaving  breast  of  the 
maiden  ? 
Youth,  what  is  it  that  bids  tears  to  mount  up  to  thine 
eye? 
All !    she  seeks  in  vain  for  a  something  ail-gently  to 

And  the  o'er  ripe  fruit  bends  to  the  ground  with  its 
weigh';. 
Bestlessl-'-striving,  the  youth  in  his  self-lighted  ilame  in 
consuming ; 


THE   POWER  OF   WOMAN.  231 

Ah  I  oVr  tliii^  fierce-burning  glow  breathes  uot  n  soft- 

oniu;   winil. 

See,  at  length  they  meet, — 'tis  CnpiJ  has  brought  them 

togeth  ;-, 

And  to  tilt  deity  wingM,  victory  wing'd  socn  .succeeds. 

Love  divine,  'tis  thou  that  joiuest  mortality's  I'.owers  1     < 

Parted  fur  ever,  by  thee  are  they  fur  evermore  link'd  I 


THE  POWER  OF  WOMAN. 

MiGHTi  art  thou,  because  of  the  peaceful  charms  of  thy 

presence ; 
That   which  the   silent  does  not,   never  the  boastful 

can  do. 
Vigor  in  man  I  expect,  the  law  in  its  honors  maintain- 

ill?, 
But,  through  the  graces  aloue,  woman  e'er  rules  or 

shuuKl  rule. 
Many,    indeed,    havo  rul'd   through   the  might  of  the 
spirit  and  action, 
But  tli(  u,  thou  noblest  of  crowns,  they  were   lificient 
in  thee. 
No  real  queen  exists  but  the  womanly  beauty  of  woman; 
Where  it  appears,  it  nuist  ruK" ;  ruling  because  it  ap- 
pears 1 


THE  DANCE. 

Beb,  how  like  billows  the  couples  with  hovering  motion 
are  whirling  ! 
Scarce  does  the  s  ,vift-winged  foot  seem   to   alight  on 
the  earth. 
See  I  fugitive  shadows  set  free  from  the  weight  of  the 
body? 
Veave,  in  the  liglii^  of  the  moon,  elves  their  ethereal 
dance  ? 
As   when,    rock'd    bj     the  zephyr,  the  weightless  vapor 
Hies  xipwurds, 
As  ou  the  silvery  Hood  lightly  is  balano' 1  the  bark, 
So  ou  the  tuneful   billowy  (M"  Tif xe  i&  ♦^iho  docile  foo^ 
moving ; 


232  THE   DANCE. 

Murmaring  tones  from  the  cbortls   wafting  tlae  body 
tlirough  air. 
Now,    as  if  seeking  witli  miglit   to  burst  through  the 
dance  s  strong  fetters, 
There,   where  the  throng  is   most    dense,    b.  klly  a 
couple  whirl  round. 
Quickly  before  them  arises  a  path,  disappearing  behind 
them  ; 
As  with  a  magical  hand,  opens  and  closes  the  way. 
See  !  now  they  vanish  from  sight ;  iu  wikl  entanglement 
blended. 
Falls  the  edifice  proud,  built  of  this  movable  world. 
No,  there  it  rises    again    exulting,    the    knot    is    un- 
ravel'd  : 
While  the  old  rule  is  restor'd,  with  but  a  new  form  of 
charm. 
Ever  demolish'd,    the  whirling   creation    renews  itself 
ever, 
And,  by  a  law  that  is  mude,  each  transformation  is 
led. 
Say,  how  is    it    that,    ever    renew' d    the    figures    are 
hov'ring, 
While  repose  is  not  found,  save  in  the  changeable 
f orin  ? 
How  is  each  one  at  freedom  to  follow  the  will  of  his 
bosom, 
And  to  find  out  the  sole  path,  as  he  pursues  his  swift 
'i  course  ? 

hrVouldst    thou    know    how    it    is  ?       'Tia    Haimony's 
powerful  godhead. 
Changing  the  boisterous  leap  into  the  sociable  dance. 
That,    like    Nemesis,    links    to    the    golden    bridle  of 
I'hythm 
Every  volent  lust,  taming  each  thing  that  was  wild. 
Is't  then  iu  vain  that  the  universe  breathes  its  harmo- 
nious niimbers  ? 
Does  not  the  music  divine   bear  thee   away  iu  its 
stream  ? 
Peelest  thou  not  the  inspiriting  time  that  all  creatures 
are  beating  ? 
Not  the  swift-whirling  dance  that  through  the  wide 
realms  of  space 
Brandishes  glittering  suns,  in  paths  intertwining  with 
boldness  ? 
Honoring  Measure  iu  sport,  tUou  dost  avoid  it  in  deed. 


233 

FORTUNE. 

Blest  is  the  man  whom  tho  merciful  gods,  ere  ho  came 
into  bcinp:, 
Cberish'd,  auil  -whom,   as  a  child,  Venus  then  rock'd 
in  her  arms  ; 
And  Avhoso  eyes  by  riioebus,   whofee   lips  by  Hermes 
wero  open'd, 
And  on  whose  forehead  great  Zeus  stamp'd  the  im- 
pression of  might ! 
Truly,  a  glorious  lot  is  his, — ay  !  e'en  a  divine  one, 
For,  ere  the  contest  begins,  wreath'd  with  a  crown  is 
J  lis  brow  ; 
Ere  ho  has  liv'd  it,  the  fulness  of  life  as  his  portion  is 
meted. 
Ere  he  has  labor  ondur'd,  he  has  to  Cliaris  attain'd. 
Great  I  must  ciUl   the  man,  who,  his  own  creator  and 
sculptor. 
Vanquishes  even  the  Fates,  by  his  strong  virtue  alone  ; 
Fortune,  alas  !  he  ne'er  can  o'ercome,  and  what  Charis 
refuses 
Gioidgiugly,  ne'er  can  he  reach,  strive  with  what  cour- 
age he  may. 
Thou  canst  defend  thee  with  resolute  will  from  what  is 
unworthy  ; 
All  that  is    noble  the    gods    freely  send  iXovra  from 
above. 
As  thou  art  lov'd  by  tho  lov'd    one,    so    full  the  gifts 
granted  by  Heaven  ; 
Yonder  in  Jupiter's  realm.  Favor  is  lord,  as  in  Love's. 
Gods  by  afrectiou  are  goveru'd — the  curly  locks  of  green 
childhood 
Love  they  full  well,    for  the  glad  ever  by  rapture  are 
led. 
'Tis  not  they  who  can  see   that  are   ever  made  blest  by 
their  presence, — 
No  one  save  he  who  is  blind  views   their  bright  glory 
reveid'd. 
Gladly  they  choose  for  themselves   simiilicity's   innocent 
spirit, 
And  iu  the  vessel  so  meek,  that   which   is   GodUke  en- 
close. 
All  imforcseen  they  come,  deceivmg  each  proud  expecta- 
tion, 


=234  rOKTTINE. 

No  anathema's  might  forces   the  free  ones  from  high, 
Down  to  the  man  whom   he  loves,  the   Father  of   men 
and  immortals 
Bids  his  eagle  descend,  bearing  him  then  to  the  skies. 
'Mougst  the  multitude  ever  piu-sues  he  his  self-will'd  re- 
searches, 
And,   when  -well  pleas'd  with   a  head,    round  it  he 
•wi'eathes  with  kind  hand 
Now  the  laiTrel,  and  now  the  fillet  dominion-bestowing, — 
Favoring  fortune  alone  e'er  can  the  god  himself  croAvn, 

Phcebus,  the  Pythian  victor,  precedes   the   happy  one's 
footsteps, 
And  the  subduer  of  hearts,  Amor,  the   sweet-smiling 
god. 
Neptune  makes  level  the  ocean  before  him,  the  keel   of 
the  vessel 
Glides  softly  on,  as  it  bears   Ciesar  and   Caesar's  great 
fate. 
Down  at  his  feet  sinks  the  I'oaring  lion,  the   blustering 
dolphin 
Mounts  from  the  deep,  and  his  back  offers  with  meek- 
ness to  Him. 
Envy  the  happy  one  not,  if  an  easy  triumj)!!  the   Immor- 
tals 
Grant  him,  or  from  the  fight   Venus   her   darluig  \>vc- 
serves. 
Him   whom  that  smiling    one   rescues,    the  favor'd  of 
Heaven,  I  envy, 
Not  the  man  o'er  whose  eyes  she  a  dark  covering  throws. 
Should    Achilles    be    ruckou'd    less    glorious,    in    that 
Hephfestus 
Fashion'd  his  buckler   himself,  fashion'd   his   terrible 
sword, 
In  that  around  him  Avhen  dying  the  whole   of   Olympus 
was  gather'd  ? 
Great  was  his  glory,  in    truth,  in  that   the   gods   lov'd 
him  Avell ; 
In  that  they  honor'd   his   -wrath,  and   to   give  renown  to 
tlieir  fav'rite, 
Hurl'd  the  best  of  the  Greeks  down  to   the  diU'kness  of 
hell 


OKNirrs  235 

finvy  not  he.iiity  because  she  shines  like   the  lily'a  sweet 
calyx 
Owing  to  Venus 'a  gift,  void  of  all  merit  herself. 
Let  lior  the  happy  one  bo  ;  if  thou  seest  her,  thou,  then, 
art  the  bk'.st  one  ! 
As  without  merit  she  shines,  so  thou  art  joy'd  by  her 
charms. 
Be  thou  glad  that  the  gift   of  song  descends   fi-om   the 
lu-avcns, 
And  that  tliou  hear'st  from   the   bard  what  ho  has 
leai'u'd  from  tlie  muse  ! 
Since  by  the  god  he's  mspir'd,  a  god   he   becomes  to  the 
hearer ; 
Since  he  the  happy   one  is,    thou  canst  the   blissful 
one  be. 
In  the  busy  market  let  Themis  appear  with  lier  balance. 
Let  the  reward  mete  itself,  strictly  proportiou'd  to 
toil ; 
Only  a  god  can  tinge   the  cheeks   of  a   mortal  with 
rajiture, — 
Wlicro  no  miracle  is,  there  can  no  blest  one  be  found. 
All  that  is  human  must  first  be  born,  must  grow,  and 
must  ripen, 
And  from  shai^e  on  to  shape,  fashioning  Time  leads  it 
on  ; 
But  thou  seest  not  the  blissful,  the  beautiful,  come  into 
being. 
Since  the  beginning  of  time,   perfect  they  ever  have 
been. 
•      Every  Venus  of  earth,  like  the  first  one  of  heaven,  arises 
Only  an  ill-defin'd  form,  out  of  the  infinite  sea  ; 
But,  like  the  first  Minerva,  proceeds,    with  the  £egis 
provided, 
Every  lightning-like  thought  out  of  the  thunderer's 
brain. 


GENIUS. 

"Do  I  beJieve,"  sayest  thou,   "what   the   masters  of 

wisdom  would  t(^ach  me. 
And  what  their  followers'  baud  boldly  and  readily 

swear  ? 
Cannot  I  ever  attain  to  true  peace,  excepting  through 

kuowletlge, 


236  GENITJS. 

Or  is  the  system  upheld  only  by  fortune  and  law  ? 
Must  I  distrust  the  geutly-warniug  impulse,  the  precept 
That  thou,  Nature,  thyself  hast  in  my  bosom  impress'd. 
Till  the  schools  have  affix'd  to  the  'writ  eternal  their 
signet. 
Till  a  mare  formula's  chain  binds  down  the  fugitive 
soul  ? 
Answer  me,  then  I  for  thou  hast  down  into  these  deep» 
e'en  descended, — 
Out  of  the  mouldering  grave   thou  didst  uninj  ur'd  re 
tiu-n. 
ts't   to  thee  known   what  within  the  tomb  of  obscure 
works  is  hidden. 
Whether,  you  mummies  amid,  life's  consolations  can 
dwell  ? 
JNIust  I  travel  the  darksome  road  ?     The  thought  mak*es 
me  tremble  ; 
Yet  I  ivill  travel   that  road,   if  'tis  to  truth  and  to 
right." 

Friend,  hast  thou  heard  of  the  golden  age  ?     Full  many 
a  story 
Poets  have  sung  in  its  praise,  simply  and  touchingly 
sung — 
Of  the  time  when  the  holy  still  wander'd  over  life's  path- 
ways,— 
When  with   a   maidenly  shame  ev'ry  sensation  was 
veii'd,— 
When  the  mighty  law  that  governs  the  sun  in  his  orbit, 
And  that,  conceal'd  in  the  bud,  teaches  the  point  how 
to  move, 
When  necessity's  silent  law,  the  steadfast,  the  change- 
less, 
StiiT'd  up  billows  more  free,   e'en  in  the  bosom  of 
man, — 
When  the  sense,  unen-ing,  and  true  as  the  hand  of  the 
dial, 
Pointed  only  to  truth,  only  to  what  was  eterne  ? — 

Then  no  profane  one  was  seen,  then  no  Initiate  was  met 

with. 
And  what  as  living  was  felt,   Avas  not  then  sought 

'mongst  the  dead  ; 
Equally  clear  to  every  breast  was  the  precept  eternal, 


GENIUS,  237 

Equally  hidden   tho   source  whence  it  to  gladden  us 
sprang ; 
But  that  happv  period  has  vanish'd  !  And  self-will'd  pre- 
sumptiou 
Nature's  godlike  repose  uow  has  for  ever  destroy'cL 
F  'eliugs    i^olluted    tlie    voi'.'o  of     the    deities  eeho  no 
longer, 
In  tlie  dislionored  breast  now  is  the  oracle  dumb. 
Save  iu  the  sileutor  self,  the  listeumg  soul  cauuot  find 

it. 
There  does  the  mystical  v.ord  watch  o'er  tlie  meaning 

divine ; 
Tliere  does    the   searcher  conjure   it,  descending  with 
bosom  unsullied; 
There  does  the  nature  long-lost  give  him  back  wisdom 
again. 
If  thou,  happy  one,  never  hast  lost  the  angel  that  guards 
thee, 
Forfeited  never  the  kind  warnings  that  instinct  holds 
forth  ; 
If  in  thy  modest  eye  the  truth  is  still  purely  depicted  ; 
If  iu  thine  innocent  breast  clearly  still  echoes  its  call ; 
If  in  tiiy  tranquil  mind  the  struggles  of  doubt  still  are 
silent. 
If  they  Avill  surely  remain  silent  for  ever,  as  now  ; 
If  by  the  conflict  of  feelings  a  judge  will  ne'er  be  re- 
quired ; 
If  in  its  malice  thy  heart  dims  not  the  reason  so  clear, 
Oh,  then,  gothy  v/ay  in  all  thy  innocence  precious  ! 
Knowledge  can  teach  tliee  iu  naught  ;    thou  canst  in- 
struct lirr  in  much  ! 
Yonder  law,  that    with  brazen   staff    is    directing    tho 
struggling. 
Naught  is  to  thee.     What  thou  dost,  what  thou  may'st 
Avill,  is  thy  law. 
And  to  every  race  a  godlike  authority  issues. 

"Wliat  thou  with  holy  hand  form'st,    what  thou  with 
holy  mouth  spcak'st. 
Will  with  omnipotent  power  impel  the  wondering  senses; 
Thou  but  observ'st   not  the  God  ruling  within  thine 
own  Ijreast, 
Not  the  might  of  the  signet  that  bows  all  spirits  before 
thee  ; 
Simple  and  silent  thou  go'st  through  the  wide  world 
thou  hast  won. 


238 

THE  PHILOSOPHICAL  EGOTIST. 

Hast  thou  e'er  watch'd  the  infant,  who,  feeling  not  yet 
the  affection 
Wherewith  he's  cradled  and  warm'd,  tosses  in  sleep  in 
the  arm, 
Till  as  a  jcuth  he  awakes,  obeying  the  impulse  of  pas- 
sion, 
Ajid  till  his  conscience's  light,  dawning,  first  shows  him 

the  world  ? 
Hast  thou  e'er  watch'd  the  mother,  procuring  sweet  rest 
for  her  darling 
At  the  expense  of  her  own, — tending  the   babe  as  it 
dreams, — 
With  her  own  life  supporting  and  feeding  the   flame  as 
it  trembles, — 
And  in  her  own  care  itself,  meeting  that  care's  own 
reward  ? 
And  great  Nature  thou  slanderest,  who,  now  child,  and 
now  mother. 
Now  receives   and   now  gives,  but  through  necessity 
lasts  ? 
Self-sufficient,    wilt  thou   from  the  beauteous  link  dis- 
enchain  thee. 
Which,    iu  an  intimate   bond,    creature   to  creature 
unites  ? 
Frail  one  !    wilt  thou   stand,    then,  alone,  in  thee  only 
relying, 
When    by    the    forces'    exchange    even    the  luflnitt 
stands  ? 


THE  WORDS  OF  FAITH. 

Three  words  of  mighty  moment  I'll  name, 
From  mouth  unto  mouth  they  ily  ever. 

Yet  the  heart  cau  alone  (heir  great  value  proclaim, 
For  their  source  from  without  rises  never. 

No  virtue,  no  merit,  man's  footsteps  e'er  guides, 

When  in  those  three  words  he  no  longer  confide* 

For  liiBEKTY,  man  is  created, — is  free, 

Tliough  fetters  around  him  bo  chinking; 
Let  the  cry  of  the  mob  never  terrify  thee. 


tnE  WORDS  OP  EniioR.  239 

Nor  tlio  scorn  of  the  doltarcT  uiitliinkiri!^  ! 
Ft';ir  not  tho  bold  slave  when  lie  breaks  from  his  chains, 
Nur  the  man  who  iu  freedom  enduring  remains  ! 

And  VIRTUE  is  more  than  a  mere  empty  sonnd, 
His  iu'actice  t    i  nig':  life  man  may  make  it; 

And  though  oft,  ere  ho  yet  the  divine  one  has  found, 
He  may  stumble,  lu  still  may  o'crtake  it. 

And  tliat  wliich  the  v/i.s3  in  his  \vi.sdom  ne'er  knew, 

Can  be  done  by  tho  miud  that  is  childlike  and  true. 

And  a  God,  too,  tliore  is,  with  a  purpose  sublime, 
Th.ough  frail  may  bo  reason's  dominion ; 

High  over  tho  regions  of  space  and  of  time 
The  noblest  of  thoiights  waves  its  pinion ; 

And  tho'  all  things  in  ceaseless  succession  may  roll, 

Yet  constant  forever  remains  a  calm  soul. 

Preserve,  then,  the  three  mighty  words  I  have  nam'd  ; 

From  mouth  unto  mouth  spread  them  ever, 
By  thy  licai-t  will  their  iafinite  worth  be  proclaim'd, 

Though  their  source  from  without  rises  never. 
Forget  not  that  virtue  man's  footsteps  still  guides, 
While  iu  tiiose  three  words  he  with  firmness  confides. 


THE  WORDS  OF  ERROR. 

In  the  mouth  of  tho  good  and  the  noble  are  found 
Three  words  of  an  import  momentous  ; 

Tet  vain  is  their  echo  and  emjity  their  sound, 
They  ne'er  can  console  or  content  us. 

The  fruit  that  lit'o  yields  is  but  lost  to  mankind, 

As  long  as  he  seeks  these  vain  shadows  t<:>  find. 

As  long  as  he  trusts  in  the  golden  age. 

Where  tho  right  and  tho  good  conquer  ever, — 

The  right  and  tlie  good  an  eternal  strife  wage, 
And  the  foe  will  succumb  to  theui  never, — 

Unless  in  the  air  thou  caustcrusli  hiui  to  death. 

For  contact  with  earth  but  restores  his  lost  breath- 


24;(i  PROVERBS  OF   CONPTJCltJa. 

As  long  as  lie  trusts  that  fortune's  rays 

With  the  uoLie  can  ever  be  blended — 
She  follows  t'ie  bad  with  loving  gaze  ; 

For  the  good  i.s  the  earth  not  intended. 
A  stranger  he  is,  and  his  fate  is  l-j  roam, 
And  seek  an  enduring,  a  ne'er  changing  home. 

As  long  as  he  trusts  that  the  truth  will  e'er  stand 

Reveal'd  to  the  reason  unstable — 
Her  veil  can  be  rais'd  by  no  m  rtal  hand ; 

But  to  guess  and  suppose,  ve  are  al  le. 
In  a  word  of  mere  sound,  th<  i  enchainest  the  soul ; 
But  the  free  one  defies  e'en  the  tem^jest's  control. 

From  that  error,  then.  Spirit  of  Light,  set  thee  free,— 
In  thy  breast  be  a  true  faith  victorious ! 

What  no  ear  could  e'er  her  ,  ■  -hat  n^  eye  could  e'er  se«, 
Remains  still  thi^  truthful,  the  glorious  ! 

It  is  not  rvUhout,  for  the  fool  seeks  it  there  ; 

Within  thee  it  flourishes,  constant  and  fair. 


PROVERBS  OF  CONFUC/US. 


THREEFOiiD  is  the  march  of  time  : 
While  the  future  slow  advances, 
Like  a  dart  the  present  glances. 

Silent  stands  the  past  sublime. 

No  impatience  e'er  can  speed  him 
On  his  course,  if  ho  delay  ; 

No  alarm,  no  doubts  impedes  him 
If  he  keep  his  onward  way ; 

No  regrets,  no  magic  numbers 

Wake  the  tranc'd  one  from  his  slumbers. 

Wouldst  thou  wisely,  and  with  pleasure. 
Pass  the  days  of  life's  short  measure, 
From  the  slow  one  counsel  take, 
But  a  tool  of  him  ne'er  make ; 
Ne'er  as  friend  the  swift  one  know. 
Nor  the  constant  one  as  foe  1 


LTOItf   AND   ^VA1{MTII.  241 

II. 

Tlirccfolil  13  the  form  of  space  : 
Lotfjth,  witli  evtr  nstless  motion, 
Seelcs  (^eriiity's  witle  ocean  ; 
Jircndtli  with  boinidless  sw:iy  extends  t, 
Dcptit  to  uukuow'u  realms  descends. 

All  as  tyi^es  to  tlieo  are  given  : 
Thou  must  ouAvurd  strive  for  heaven, 
Never  still  or  Aveary  bo 
Wouldat  thou  perfect  glory  see  ; 
Far  must  thy  researches  go 
Wouldst  thou  learn  the  "world  to  know  ; 
Thou  must  tempt  the  dark  abyss 
Wouldst  thou  i^rove  what  Beinrj  is. 

Naught  but  firmness  gains  the  ]}rize,— 
Naught  but  fulness  makes  us  Avise, — 
Buried  deep,  truth  ever  lies ! 


LIGHT  AND  WARMTH. 

The  world,  a  man  of  noble  mind 

"With  glad  reliance  enters  ; 
Around  him  spread,  he  hopes  to  find 

"What  in  his  bosom  centres ; 
And  dedicati^s,  with  ardor  warm, 
To  truth's  good  cause  his  trusty  arm. 

That  all  is  mean  and  email,  ere  long 

Experience  shows  him  ever  ; 
Himself  to  guard  amid  the  throng 

Is  now  his  st)]e  endeavor. 
His  heart,  in  calm  and  jiroud  repose, 
Soon  e'en  to  love  begins  to  close. 

Alas  !  truth's  elenr  and  brilliant  rays 

Are  not  for  ever  glowing  ; 
How  blest  is  he  whose  heart  ne'er  pays 

For  gift  from  knowledge  flowing  ! 
So  tliou  the  worldling's  gaze  shoiildst  bias 
To  the  enthusiast's  steadfast  mind  I 


BREADTH  AND  DEPTH. 

FuiiL  many  iu  tlie  -world  we  find 

To  whom  notliiug  seems  e'er  a  mystery  ; 

And  when  anglit  pleases  or  charms  the  mind, 
They're  able  to  give  all  its  history. 

To  hear  them  speak,  one  could  ne'er  have  denied 

That  they  had  won  the  long-wished-for  bride. 

In  silence,  however,  they  quit  the  earth, 

Their  life  leaves  behind  it  no  traces  : — 
Let  him  who   to   something   that's   great   would    give 
birth, — 

To  something  that  time  ne'er  effaces, — 
With  jjatience  collect,  and  tmweariedly, 
In  the  smallest  point,  boundless  energy. 

The  stalk  the  region  around  it  fills 

With  branches  luxuriant  and  slender  ; 
The  foliage  glitters,  and  balms  distils, 

But  fruit  it  can  never  engender. 
The  kernel  alone,  in  its  narrow  space, 
The  pride  of  the  forest,  the  tree,  can  embrace. 


THE  GUIDES  OF   LIFE* 

Two  kinds  of  gcJiie  there  are,  through  life's  mazy  path- 
ways to  giiide  thee  ; 
Happy  art  thou  if  they  stand,  join'd  into  one  by  thy 
side ! 

One  with  his  gladdening  sport  beguileth   thy  tedious 
journey,— 
Duty  and  fate  become  light,  when  thou'rt  upheld  by 
his  arm. 

fjaughing  and  talking  the  while,  he  on  to  the  chaam 
conducts  thee. 


Orij^innlly  entitled  '  The  Beautiful  and  the  Sublime.' 


AKCHIMEDES  ANT)  THE  STXJDENT.  243 

Wliere,  on  eternity's  sra,  tremblinj;  mortality  stauils, 
Tliere  does  the  Otber  receive  thee,  with  solemn  resolve 
and  in  silence, 
And  "with  his  giant-like   arm   bears  thee  across   thu 
abyss. 
Ne'er  to  one  only  devote  theo  !    Thine  h')nor  ne'er  tliiuU 
of  coufidina: 
Into  the  hands   of  the   first,    nor   to   t'lc   other  thj 
bliss  ! 


ARCHIMEDES  AND   THE  STUDENT. 

To  Archimedes  once  camo  a  yonth,  who  for  knowledge 
was  thirsting, 
Saying,  "  Initiate  mo  into  the  science  divine. 
Which  for  my  country  has  borne  forth  fruit  oi  sncl\ 
wonderful  value. 
And  which  the  walls  of  the  town  'gainst  the  Saml:uca  * 
protects. " 

"Call'st  thou  the  science  divine?     It  is  so,"  the  wise 
man  responded  ; 
"But  it  was  so,  my  6o.n,  ere  it  avail 'd  for  the  town. 
Wouldst  tlu.u  have  fruit  from  her  only,   e'en  mortals 
with  that  can  i)rovicle  thee  ; 
Wouldst  thou  the  goddess  obtain,  seek  not  the  woman 
in  Her  ! " 


HUMAN  KNOWLEDGE. 

Since  thou  roadest  in  her  what  thou  thyself  hast  there 
written. 
And,    to  gladden    the   eye,    placest   her  wonders   in 
gi-oups  ;— 
Since  o'er  her  boundless  expanses  thy  cords  to  extend 
thou  art  able, 
Thou  dost  think  that  thy  mind  wonderful  Nature  can 
gnisp. 

•  The  rnme  of  a  macliinc  used  in  sicgce,   employed   by  j^Iarcelius 
af^in»t  Syruciisc. 


244  THE   T-WO   PATHS   OF   VIKTUE. 


Thus    the    astronomer    draws     his    figtires     over    the 
heavcus, 
So  that  he  may  with  more  ease  traverse  the  iufiuite 
space, 
Knitting  together  e'en  suns  that  by  Sirius-distance  are 
parted, 
Making  them  join  in  the  swan  and  in  the  horns  of  the 
ball. 
But   because   the  firmament   shows   him    its    glorious 
sui'face, 
Oan  he  the    *pheres '  mystic  dance  therefore  decipher 
aright  ? 


THE  TWO  PATHS  OF  VIRTUE. 

Two  are  the  pathways  by  which  mankind  can  to  virtTie 
mount  upward  ; 
If  thoii  shouldst  find  the  one  barr'd,  open  the  other 
will  lie. 
'Tis  by  exertion  the  Hajjpy  obtain  her,  the  Suffering  by 
l^atience. 
Blest  is  the  man  whose  kind  fate  guides  him  along 
upon  both  I 


HONORS. 


As  the  column  of  light  in  the  waves  of  the  brook  is 
reflected, 
Bright  as  from  its  o^vn  glow,  flameth  the  border  with 
gold  ; 
But  by  the  sti-eam  are  the  waves  hui-ricd  on, — through 
the  glittering  pathway 
Each  thrusts  the  other  along,  swift,  as  the  former,  to 

So   13   a  mortal   that  perishes  lighted  by  splendor  of 
honors, — 
Not  himself,  but  the  place,  through  which  he  wan- 
dereth,  shines. 


245 

ZENITH  AND  NADIR. 


'^KERKsoEATi:R  tliou  wand'rcst  in  space,  thy  Zenith  anc. 
Nadir 
[Tiito  the  heaven  knit  thee,  unto  the  axis  of  earth. 
Howsoever  thou  actest,   let  heav'n   be   mov'd   by  thy 
purpose, 
Let  tlie  aim  of  thy  deeds  traverse  the  axis  of  earth  I 


DEPARTURE  FROM  LIFE. 

Two  are  the  roads  that  before  thee  lie  open  from  life  to 
conduct  thee ; 
To  the  Ideal  one  leads  thee,  the  other  to  Death. 
See  that  while  yet  thou  art  free,  on  the  first  thou  com- 
mencest  thy  journey, 
Ere  by  the  merciless  Fates  on  to  the  other  thou'rt  led  ! 


THE  CHILD  IN   THE  CRADLE. 

Happy  infant  I  to  thee  au  infinite  space  is  the  cradle. 
When  to  man's  age  thou  shalt  come,  narrow  thou'lt 
think  the  wide  world  ! 


THE  IMMUTABLE. 

TiirE  incessantly  hastcneth  on — he  seeks  for  perfection. 
If  thou  art  true,  thou  canst  cast  fetters  eternal  on  him. 


THEOPHANIA. 

When  the  happy   appear,    I   forget   the   Gods   in  the 
heavens ; 
But  before  me  they  stand,  when  I  the  suffering  see. 


246 

THE  HIGHEST. 

Seek'st  tliou  tlie  Highest,  the  Greatest  ?     In  that  the 
plant  can  instruct  thee  ; 
What  it  unwittingly  is,  be  thou  of  thine  own  free  will ! 


IMMORTALITY. 

Dread'st  thou  the  aspect  of  Death  !      Thou  wishest  to 
live  on  for  ever? 
Live  in  the  Whole,  and  when  long  thou  shalt  have 
gone,  'twill  remain  ! 


VOTIVE  TABLETS. 

That  which  I  learn'd  from  the    Deity, — that    which 
through  lifetime  hath  help'd  me. 
Meekly   and   gratefully   now,    hei-e   I  suspend  in  his 
shrine. 

DIFFERENT   DESTINIES. 

Millions  busily  toil,  that  the  human  race  may  continue ; 

But  by  only  a  few  is  propagated  our  kiutl. 
Thousands  of  seeds  by  the  autumn  are  scatter'd,  yet 
fruit  is  engeuiler'd 
Only  by  few,  for  the  most  back  to  the  element  go. 
But  if  one  only  can  blossom,  that  one  is   able  to  scatter 
Even    a    bright    living    world,   fill'd  with    creations 
eterne. 

THE  ANIMATING  PBINCIPLE. 

NowHEKE  in  the  organic  or  sensitive  woi-ld  ever  kindles 
Novelty,  save  in  the  liow'r,  noblest  creation  of  life. 

TWO   DESCKIPTIONS   OP   ACTION. 

Do  what  is  good,    and  Humanity's  godlike  jjlant  thou 
wilt  nourish  ; 

Plan  what  is  fair,  and  thou'lt  strew  seeds  of  the  god- 
like around. 


VOTIVE   TABLETS.  iJ47 

RIFFERENCR   OK   STATION'. 

Even    the      moral    woild    its    uobUity  l)oast.s — vulgar 
naturi's 

Reckon  by  that  'wliicli  they  do  ;  ikjUU;  hv  that  ^vluch 
they  are. 

WORTH    ANl^    THE    WOKTHV. 

Ik  thou  anything  lunit,  let  mo  have  it, — I'll  pay  what  is 
proper ; 
If  thou  auy thing  art,  let  us  our  spirits  exchange. 

THE   MORAL   FORCE. 

Ik  i\\ovifecVst  not  the  beautiful,  still  thou  with  reason 
canst  iviU  it  ; 
And  as  a  si:)irit  canst  Jo,  that  which  as  mau  thou  canst 
not. 

PARTICIPATION. 

E'en  by  the  hand  of  the  Avicked  can  truth  be   worki:ig 
with  vigor ; 
But  the  vessel  is  iill'd  by  what  is  beauteous  alone.  " 

TO      * 

Tell  me  all  that  thou  knowest,  and  I  \\iil   thankfully 
lu-ar  it  ! 
But  wouldst  thou  give  me  Ihi/scif, — Lt  me,  my  friend, 
be  excus'd ! 


TO 


*     * 


Wouldst  thou  teach  me  the  tnith  ?       Don't    take   the 
troul)le  !  I  wish  not, 
Through  thee,  the  thing  to  observe, — but  to  see  Hue 


through  the  thing. 


TO 


Thee  would   I  clioose  as  my  teacher  and  friend.     Tliy 
living  example 
Teaches  me, — thy  teaching    word    wakens    my    heart 
linto  life. 


248  VOTIVE   TABLETS. 

THE  PRESENT  GENERATION. 

Was   it   always   as   now  ?     This   race   I   truly  can't 
fathom. 
Nothing  is  young  but  old  age  ;     youth,  alas  !  only  is 
old. 

TO  THE  MUSE. 

What  I  had  been  without  thee,  I  knoAv  not — yet,  to  my 
sorrow, 
See  I  what,  without  thee,  hundreds  and  thousands  nOTV 
are. 

THE  LEARNED  WORKMAN. 

C^e'er  does  he  taste  the  fruit  of  the  tree  that  he  rais'd 
■with  such  trouble  ; 
Nothing  but  taste  e'er  enjoys  that  which  by  learning  is 
rear'd. 

THE  DUTY  Ol^  ALL. 

Ever  strive  for  the  Avhole  ;    and  if  no  whole  thou  canst 
make  thee, 
Join,  then,  thyself    to  some  whole,  as  a  subsex-vieut 
limb! 

A  PROBLEM. 

Let    none    resemble    another  ;     let  each  resemble  the 
highest  ! 
How  can  that  happen  ?    let  each   be  all  complete  in 
itself. 

THE    PECULIAR   IDEAL. 

What  thou  thinkest,  belongs  to  all ;  what  thou  feel'st, 
is  thine  only. 
Wouldst  thou  make  him  thine  own,  feel  thou  the  God 
whom  thou  think'st ! 

TO   MYSTICS. 

That  is  the  only  true   secret,  which  in  the  presence  of 
all  men 
Lies,  and  surrounds  the"  for  aye,  but  which  is  wit- 
pess'd  by  none. 


VOTIVE  TABLETS.  249 

THE    KEY. 

WoiTLDHT   tliou  la)o^v  thyself,    observe    the    actions  of 
others. 
Wouldst  thou  other  men  know,  look  thou  witliin  thine 
own  heart. 

THE   OBSERVER. 

Stern  rs  my  conscience,  thou  seest  the  points   wherein 
I'm  deficient ; 
Therefore  I've  always  lov'J  thee,  as  my  own  couscicncJ 
I've  lov'd. 

^nSDOM    AND    ri'.CDENCE. 

WouldSt    thou,  my    friend,  moiint    up  to  the   highest 
summit  of  wisdom. 
Be  not  dc'tirr'd  by  the  fear,  prudence  thy  course  may 
deride  : 
That  short-sighted  one  sees  but  the  bank  that  from  thee 
is  liying, 
Not  the  one  which  ere  hmg  thou  wilt  attain  with  bold 
flight 

THE    AGREEMENT. 

Both  of  us  seek  for  truth — in  the   world   Avithout  thou 

dost  seek  it, 

I  in  the  Losom  within  ;  both  of  us  therefore   succeed. 

If  the  eye  be  healthy,  it  sees  from  Avithout  the  Creator  ; 

And  if  the  heart,  then  within  doubtless  it  mirrors  the 

Avorld. 

POtilTICAIj   PRECEPT. 

All.  that   thou   doest   is   right  ;  but,  friend,  don't  carrj 
this  jirecept 
On  too  far, — be  content,  all  that  is  right  to  eflfect. 
It  is  enough  to  true  zeal,  if  what  is  existing  be   perfect; 
False  zeal  always  would  find  finish'd  perfection  at 
ouce. 


250  VOTr\'E  TABLETS. 

MAJESTAS  POPTJX,!. 

Majesty  of  tbe  nature  of  man  !      In  cro-nJs  shall  I  seek 
thee 
'Tis  with  only  a  few  that  thou  hast  made  thine  abode. 
Only  a  few  ever  count ;  the   rest   are   but   blanks  of  no 
value, 
And  the  prizes  are  hid  'neaih  the   vain  stir  that  they 
make. 

TO  A  WORIiD-REFORMER. 

"  I  HAVE  sacrific'd  all,"  thou  sayest,  "  that  Man  I  might 
succor ; 
Vain  the  attempt ;  my  reward  was  i^ersecution   and 
hate." 
Shall  I  tell  thee,    my    friend,    how   I  to  humor  him 
manage  ? 
Trust  the  proverb  !    I  ne'er  have  been  deceiv'd  by  it 
yet. 


Thou  canst  not  sufficiently  prize  Humanity's  value  ; 

Let  it  be  coin'd  in  deed  as  it  exists  in  thy  breast. 
E'en  to  the  man  whom,  thou  chancest  to  meet  in  life's 
narrow  pathwav, 
If  he  should  ask  it  of  thee,  hold  forth  a  succoring 
hand. 
But  for  rain  and  for  dew,   for  the  general  welfare  of 
mortals, 
Leave  thou  Heaven  to  care,  friend,  as  before,  so  e'en 
now. 

MY    ANTIPATHY. 

i  have  a  heartfelt  aversion  for  crime,—  a  two-fold  aver- 
sion. 
Since  'tis  the  reason  why  man  prates  about  virtue  so 
much. 
"What!  tliou  hatest,  then,  virtue  ?"— I  would  that  by 
all  it  were  practis'd. 
So  that,  God  willing,  no  man  ever  need  speak  of  it 
more. 


VOTIVE  TABLETS.  251 

TO   ASTRONOMERS. 

Prate  not  to  nie  so  much  of   suns   autl   of   nebulous 
bodies ; 
Think  ye  nature  but  great,  in  that  she  gives  theo  to 
count  ? 
Though  your  object  may  be  the  sublimest  that  space 
liolds  within  it, 
Yet,    my   good   friiiids.    the    snbhme    dwells  not  iu 
regions  of  sijace. 

ASTRONOMICAIi   AVlilTIXGS. 

Oh,    iiow   infinite,    how    unspeakably    great,    are    the 
heavens! 
Yet  by  friv(<litv'.s  hand   do\vnward8  the  heavens  are 
pull'd! 

THE  BEST   STATE. 

"How  can  I  know  the  best  state?"     Iu  the  way  that 
thou  know'st  the  best  woman  ; 
Namely,  my  friend,  that  the  world  ever  is  silent  of 
both. 

MY  FAITH. 

Which  religion   do   I  acknowledge?     None  that    tliou 
namest. 
"None  that  I  name  ?     And  why  so  ?" — Why,  for  reli- 
gion's own  sake! 

INSIDE   AND    OUTSIDE. 

*'  God  alone  sees  the  heart" — and  therefore,  since  He 
alone  sees  it, 
Be  it  our  care  that  we,  too,  something  that's  worthy 
may  see. 

FRIEND   AND  FOE. 

Dearly  I  l<jve  a  friend  ;  yet  a  foe  I  may  turu  to  my 
profit ; 
Friends  show  me  that  which  I  cdii  :  foes  teach   me 
t]^at^^hich  I  s/iotild. 

lilGHT   AND    COLOR. 

Thou  that  art  ever  the  same,  with  the  Cliangeless  One 
take  up  tliy  dwelling! 
Color,    thou  changeable  one,    kindly  descend    upon 
man  I 


252  VOTITE   TABLETS 

BEAUTEOUS   INDIVIDUALITX. 

Thou  in  trutli  shoiildst  be  oue,  yet  not  witli  the  whole 
shouldst  thou  be  so, 
'Tis  through  the  reason  thou'rt  oue, — art  so  with  it 
through  the  heart. 
Voice  of  the  whole   is  thy  reason,  \mt  thou  thiue  own 
heart  must  be  ever  ; 
If  in   thy  heart  reason   dwells,  evermore     hajjpy  art 
thou. 

VARIETY. 

Many  are  good  and  wise  ;  yet  all  for  one  only  reckon, 
For  'tis  conception,   alas,   rules  them,  and  »ot  a  fond 
heart. 
Sad  is  the  sway  of  conception, — from  thousandfold  vary- 
ing figures, 
Needy  and  empty  but  one  it  is  e'er  able  to  bring. 
But  where  creative  beauty  is  ruling,  there  life  and  enjoy- 
ment 
Dwell ;  to  the  ne'er-changing  One,  thousands  of  new 
forms  she  gives. 

THE  THREE  AGES  OP  NATURE. 

Life  she  receiv'd  from  fable  ;  the  schools  deprived  her  of 
being, 
Liifa  creative  again  she  has  from  reason  receiv'd. 

GENIUS. 

Understanding,   indeed,  can    repeat   Avliat  already  ex- 
isted,— 
That  which  Nature  has  built  after  her  she,  too,  can 
build. 
Over  Nature  can  Reason  biiild,  l)ut  in  vacancy  only  : 
But    thou    Genius,    alone,     Nature    in  Nature  canst 
form. 

THE  IMITATOR. 

Good  from  the  good, — to  the  reasc<n  this  is  not  hard  of 
conception  ; 
But   the   genius   has   pow'r    good    from    the   bad  to 
evoke. 
'Tis   the    conceiv'd    alone,    that   thou.    Imitator,  canst 
practise ; 
Food  the  conceiv'd  never  is,    save    to  the  mind  that 
conceives. 


TOTIVE  TABLETS.  253 


OENIAXilTY. 


How  (loos  tlie  fTr;iuns  make  itself  kaowu?      la  the  way 
that  ill  nature 
Shows    the    Creator    Himself, — e'en    in    the    iufiuite 
whole. 
Clear  is  the  rether,  and  yet  of  dei^th   that   ue'er  can  he 
fathom 'd  ; 
Seen  by  the  eye,    it    rumaiiLS   evermore  closM  to  the 
sense. 

THE   INQCriKERS. 

Mex  now  seek  to  explore  eaeh  thing  from    within  and 
■without  too  ; 
How  eanst  thou  make  thy  escape.  Truth,  from  their 
eager  pm-suit  ? 
Tliat  thoy  may  catch  thee,  ■with  nets  and  jjoles  extended 
tiiey  seek  thee  ; 
But  A\ith  a  spirit-Uke  tread,  glidest  thou  out  of    the 
throng. 

THE   DIFFICULT   UXIOX. 

Whv  are  taste  and  genius  so  seldom  met  Avith  united? 
Taste  of  strength  is  afraid, — genius  despises  the  rein. 

CORRECTNESS. 

Free  from  blemish  to  be,  is  the  lowest  of  steps,  and  the 
higliest  ; 
Weakness    and    greatness    alone    ever    arrive  at  this 
point. 

THE  LAW  OF   NATURE. 

It  has  ever  been  so,  my  friend,  and  ■will  ever  remain  so: 
Weakness  has  rules  for  itself, — vigor  is  crowu'd  ■svith 
success. 

CHOICE. 

If  thou  canst  not  give  pleasure  to  all  by  thy  deeds  and 
thy  kno-wledge, 
Give  it  then,  unto  the  few  ;  many  tt)  please  is  but  vain. 

SCIENCE   OF   MUSIC. 

liBT  the  creative  art  breathe  life,  and  the  bard  furnish 
spirit ; 
But  the  Boul  is  expressed  by  Polyhyrobia  alone. 


254  VOTIVE  TABIiETS. 

LANGUAGE, 

Why  cau  the  living  spirit  be  never  seen  by  tlie  spirit  ? 
Soon   as   tlie   soul    'gius   to  speak,   then  can  the  Bonl 
speak  no  more  ! 

TO   THE   POET. 

Let  thy  speech  be  to  thee  what  the  body  is  to  the  lov= 
Beings  it  only  can  part, — beings  it  only  can  join. 

THE   MASTER. 

Other  masters  one  always  can  tell    by   the   words  that 
they  utter  ; 
That  which  he  wisely  omits,  shows  me  the    master  of 
style. 

THE  GIRDLE 

Aphrodite  preserves  her  beauty  conceal'd  by  her  girdle ; 
That  which  lends  her  her  charms,  is  what  she  covers— 
her  shame. 

the    DIIiETTANYE. 

Merely  because  thon  hast  made  a  good  verse   in  a  lan- 
guage poetic, 
One   which  composes   for   thee,    thon  art  a  poet,  for- 
sooth ! 

the  babbler  of  art. 

Dost  thon  desire  the  good  in  Art  ?  Of  the  good  art  thon 
worthy 
Which  by  a  ne'er  ceasing  Avar  'gainst  thee   thyself    is 
produced  ? 

the  philosophies. 
Which   among  the   philosophies  will  be  enduring  ?     I 
know  not. 
But  that  philosophy's  self  ever  may  last  is  my  hope. 

the  favor  op  the  muses. 
Fame  with  the  vulgar   expires  ;    but.  Muse  immortal, 

thou  bearest 
.     Those  whom   thou  lov'st,  who  love  thee,  into  Mnem- 
I  mosyne's  arms. 

homer's  head  as  a  seal. 
Trusty  old  Homer  !  to  thee  I  confide  the  secret  so  ten- 
der; 
Por  the  raptures  of  love  none  but  the  bard  should  e'«i 
know. 


256 

THE  BEST  STATE-CONSTITUTION. 

I  CAN  recognize  only  ns  snch,  the  ouo  that  enables 
Each  to  think  what  is  right, —but  that  he  thinks  bo 
carets  not. 


TJ  LAWGIVERS. 

Ever  take  it  fcr  graiite<l,  tluit  man  collectively  Tvishes 
That  which  is  right  ;    but  tako  care,  never  to  think 
bo  of  one  ! 


THE  HONORABLL, 

Ever  honor  the  whole  ;  iiuliviiluals  only  I  honor ; 
In  imlivibluals  I  always  discover  the  whole. 


FALSE  IMPULSE  TO  STUDY. 

Oh,  how  many  new  foes  against  truth  !     My  very  sou! 
bleecU'th 
WTjeu  I  behold  the  owl-race  now  bursting  forth  to 
the  light. 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  SECOND   YOUTH. 

Trust  m?,  'tis  not  a  mere  tale,  —the  fountain  of  youth 
really  runneth, 
Runneth  for  ever.      Thou   ask'st,    Where  ?      In   the 
poet's  sweet  art ! 


THE  CIRCLE  OF  NA  TURE. 

AiiL,  thou  gentle  one,  lies  embrac'd  in  thy  kingdom  ;  the 
greybeard 
Back  to  tho  days  of  his  youth,  childish  and  childlike, 
returns. 


S56 

WE  GENIUS  WITH  THEINVERTED  TGRCri, 

Lovely  he  looks,  'tis  true,  witli  the  light  of  his  torcli 
now  extinguished  ; 
But  remember  that  death  is  not  sesthetic,  my  friends ) 

THE  VIRTUE  OF  WOMAN. 

Man  of  virtue  has  need  ;    into   life  -with   boldness  K. 
plunges, 
Ent'ring  ■with  fortune  more  sure  into  the  hazardous 
strife  ; 
But  to  woman  one  virtue  suffices ;  it  ever  is  shining 
Lovingly  forth  to  the  heart:   so  k-t  it  shiue  t-}  thfl 
eye! 


THE  FAIREST  APPARITION. 

If  thou  never  hast  gazed  upon  beauty  in  moments  cv. 
sorrow. 
Thou  canst  with  truth   never   boast  that   thou   tru,. 
beauty  hast  seen. 
If  thoix  never  hast  gazed  upon  gladness  ia  beauteouv 
features, 
Thou  canst  with  truth   never  boast  that  thou  trus» 
gladness  hast  seen. 

THE  FORUM   OF    V^OMAN. 

Woman,  nevei  judge  man  by  his  individual  actions  ; 
But  upon  mau,  as  a  whole,  pass  thy  decisive  decree. 


FEMALE  JUDGMENT. 

Man  frames  his  judgment  ou  reason ;  but  woman  on  lovfi 
founds  Jier  verdict ; 
If  her  judgment  loves  not,  woman  already  has  judg'd. 


257 

THE  IDEAL  OF  WOMAN. 

Woman  in  evorvthing  yields  to  man  ;  but  in  that  ^vbich 
is  1'i;.j!h's^, 
Even  the  manliest  man  yields   to   the   woman   most 
■weak. 
But  that  liigl)ost,^-wbat  is  it?     The  gentle  radiance  of 
triumph 
As  in  tl  y  brow    upon    me,    beauteous    Amanda,    it 
beams. 
When  o'er  tlie  bright  shining  disk  the  clouds  of  affliction 
are  fleeting, 
Fairer  the  image  appears,  seen  through  the  vapor  of 
gold. 
Man  may  think  himself  free  !  thou  art  so, — for  thou  never 
knowest 
What  is  the  meaning  of  choice, — know'st   not  neces- 
sity's name. 
That  which  thou  givost,  thou  always  giv'st  wholly  ;  but 
one  art  thou  ever, 
Even  thy  tenderest^sjund  is  thine  liarm_onious  self. 
Youth  everlasting  dwells  here,  with  fullness  that  never  is 
exhausted, 
And  with  the   flower  at  once  pluck'st  thou  the  ripe 
golden  fruit. 


"EXPECTATION   AND   FULLFILLME NT. 

fyrc-  life's  ocean  the    youth   with  a  thousand   masts 
daringly  launches  ; 
Mute,  in  a  boat  sav'd  from  wreck^  enters  the  greybeard 
the  port. 


THE  COMMON  FATE. 

3ke  how  we  hate,  how  we  quarrel,  how  thought  and  how 
feeling  divide  lis  ! 
But    thy   locks,    fi-iend,    like    mine    meanwliile    aw 
bleach  Huing  fnet. 


258 
HUMAN  ACTION. 

Where  the  pathway  begins,  eternity  seems  to  lie  open 
Yet  at  the  narrowest  point  even  the  wisest  man  stops. 


THE  FATHER. 

Work  as  mnch  as  thou  wilt,    alone  thou'lt  be  standing 
for  ever, 
Till  by  nature  thou'rt  joined  forcibly  on  to  the  Whole, 


LOVE  AND  DESIRE. 

BlGHTLY  said,  Schlosser  !  Man  loves  what  he  has  ;  what 
he  has  not,  desireth ; 
H'one  but  the  wealthy  minds  love  ;  poor  minds  desir(? 
alone. 


GOODNESS  AND  GREATNESS. 

Only  two  virtues  exist.     Oh,   would  they  were  evei 
united  ! 
Ever  the  good  with  the  great,  ever  the  great  with  the 
good  ! 

THE  IMPULSES. 

Fear  with  his  iron  staff  may  urge  the  slave  onward  for^ 
ever ; 
Rapture,  do  thou  lead  me  on  ever  in  roseate   chains  1 


NATURALISTS  AND  TRANSCENDENTAL 
PHILOSOPHERS. 

Enmity    be   between    ye !     Your  union    too    soon    is 
cemented ; 
Ye  will  but  learn  to    know  truth,  when  ye  divide 
iu  the  search. 


259 
GERMAN  GEN/US. 

Stkive,  O  Giiinaii,  for  P.omun-like    strength    and    foi 
(h-cciiiii-like  licHuty  ! 
Thou  art  successful  iu  both ;  ne'er  has  the   Gaul  had 
success. 


TRIFLES 

THE   EriO   HEXAMETER. 

GiDDrLT  onward  it  bears  thee  -with  resistless  impetuous 
billows ; 
Nauglit  but  the  ocean   and  air  seest  thou  before  or 
behind. 

THE  DISTICH. 

Ik  the  Hexameter  rises  the  fountain's  watery  eolumn, 
In  the  Pentameter  sweet  falling  iu  melody  down. 

THE  EIGHT-LINE  STANZA. 

Stanza,  by  love  thou'rt  created, — by  love  all-tender  and 
yearning ; 
Thrice  dost  thou  bashfully  fiy  ,  thrice  dost  with  long- 
ing return. 

THE   OBEIilSK. 

On  a  pedestal  lofty  the  sculijtor  iu   triumph  has  rais'd 
me. 
"  Stand  thou,"  spake   he, — and  I  stand  proudly  and 
joyfullv  here. 

THE  TKIUJIPHAIi  ARCH. 

**  Fear  not,"  the  builder  exclaim'd,    "  the  rainbow  that 
stands  in  the  heavent* ; 
I  will  extend  thee  like  it,  into  infinity  far  1 " 


260  GERMANY  AND  HER  PRINCES. 

THE  BEAUTIFUL  BRIDGE. 

Under  me,  over  me,  hasten  the  waters,  the  chariots,  my 
builder 
Kindly  has  siiffer'd  e'en   me,  over  myself,  too,  to  go  ! 

THE   GATE. 

Let  the  gate  open  stand,  to  allure   the   savage   to  pre- 
cepts ; 
Let  it  the  citizen  lead  into  free  nature  with  joy. 

ST.  peter' s. 

If  thon   seekest  to   find  Immensity  here,  thou'rt  mis^ 
taken ; 
For  my  greatness  is  meant  greater  to  make  thee  thyselil 


GERMANY  AND   HER  PRINGE8. 

Thou  hast  produced  mighty  monarchs,  of  whom  tliow 

art  not  unworthy. 

For  the  obedient  alone  make  him  who  governs  them 

great. 

Bnt,  O  Germany,  try  if  thou  for  thy  rulers  canst  make  it 

Harder  as  kings  to  be  great, — easier,  though,  to  be  men  I 


TO  PROSELYT/SERS. 

"  Gi\Ti  me  only  a  fragment  of  earth  beyond  the  esirth'^ 
limits," — 
So  the  godlike  man  said, — "and  I  will  move  it -^th 
ease." 
Only  give  me    permission    to    leave    myself    for    oua 
moment. 
And  without  any  delay  I  will  engage  to  be  yr  ars. 


THE  CONNEGT/NG  MEDIUM. 

How  does   nfitnre   proceed   to  unite  t'^e  high  <tnd  the 
lowly 
In  mankind  ?     ^he  commnndsi  faulty  "tween  them  to 
Btandl 


2G1 

THE  MOMENT. 

DouBTLLSS    an    rjjocli  important  haa  with  the  ceiitizr, 
risen  ; 
But  tho  moment,  so  great,  finds  but  a  race  of  small 
■worth. 


GERMAN  COMEDY. 

Fools   wo    may   have    in   plenty,  and  simi^letons,  too, 
by  the  dozen ; 
But  for  comedy  theso  uevcr  m;iko  iiso  of  themaelves. 


BOOKSELLER'S  ANNOUNCEMENT. 

Naught  is  for  man  bo  important   as  rightly   to   know 
his  own  i>urpose  ; 
For  but  twelve  grosclieu,  liard  cash,  'tis  to  be  bought 
at  my  shop  ! 


DANGEROUS  CONSEQUENCES. 

Deeper    and  bold;  r   truths  be  carLful,  my  fneuds,  of 
avowing; 
For  as  soon  as  ye  do,  all  the  world  ou  ye  will  fall. 


GREEKI8M. 

Scarce  bos  the  fever  so  chilly  of  galomauia  departed, 
Wheu  a  more  burning  attack  iu   Grecomama  breuks 

out. 
Greekism, — what  did  it  mean  ? — 'Twas  harmony,  reason 

and  clearness  ! 
Patience,  good  gentlemen,  pray,  ere  ye  of  Greekism 

speak ! 
'Tis  f<«r  au  excellent   cause  ye   are   lighting,  and  all 

that  I  as.c  i  ir 
la  that  with  reason  it  ne'er  may  be  a  laughing-stock 

made. 


^6^ 

THE  SUNDAY  CHILDREN. 

Yhars  has  the  master  been  lab'ring,  bat  always  witliout 
satisfaction  ; 
To  an  ingenious  race,  'twonld  be  in  vision  conferred. 
What  they  j^esterday   learnt,   to-day  tlie^^  fain  "would  ba 
teaching  : 
Small  compassion,  alas,  is  by  those  gentlemen  shoTvii! 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS. 


PUPIL. 

I    AM    rejoic'd,    worthy    sirs,    to    find    you    in   pleno 
assembled  : 
For  I  have  come  down  below,  seeking  the  one  needful 
thing. 

AEISTOTIiE, 

Quick  to  the  point,   my  good  friend  !      For  the  Jena 
Gazette  comes  to  hand  here. 
Even  in  hell, — so  we  know  all  that  is  passing  above. 

PUPIL. 

So  much  the  better !     So  give  me  (I  will  not  depart 
hence  without  it) 
Some   good  principle    now, — one    that    will    always 
avail  ! 

FIRST   PHILOSOPHEK. 

<  '•iji.io,    erf/o    sum.      I   have    tliought,    and   therefore 
I  have  existence ! 
If  the  first  be  but  true,  then  is  the  second  one  sure. 

PUPIL. 

As  I  think,  I  exist.     'Tis  good !    But   who   always  is 
Thinking  ? 
Oft  I've  existed  e'en  when  I  have  been  thinking  of 
naught. 


THE  rniLOSOPHERS.  2G3 

SECOND   PHILOSOPHER. 

^inco  there  aro  things  that  exist,  a  thing  of  all  things 
Tliero  mast  needs  b.;  ; 
In   thj  thing  of  ail  tilings   dabble  wo,   just   as  we 
are, 

THIRD   PHlIiOSOPHER. 

Just    the    reverse,    say    I.      Besides    myself    there    is 
nothing  ; 
Ev'rythingelse  that  there  is,  is  but  a  bubble  to  me. 

FOURTH   PHILOSOPHER. 

Two  kinds  of  thiugs  I  allow  to  exist, — the  world  and  the 
spirit  ; 
Naught  of  others  I  know ;  even  these  signify  one. 

FIFTH   PHILOSOPHER. 

I  know  naught  of   the  thing,  and  know  still  less  of   the 
spirit ; 
Both  but  appear  unto  me  ;  yet  no  appearance  they  are. 

SIXTH   PHILOSOPHER. 

I  am  I,  and  settle  myself, — and  if  I  then  settle 

Nothing  to  be,  well   and   good — there's  a  nonentity 
form'd. 

SEVENTH   PHILOSOPHER. 

There  is  conception  at  least !     A  thing  conceiv'd  there 

is,  therefore ; 
And  a  couceiver  as  well, — which,  with  conception, 

make  three. 

PUPIL. 

All  this  nonsense,  good  sirs,  won't  answer  my  purpose 
a  tittle  ; 
I  a  real  principle  need, — one  by  which  something  is 
fix'd. 


264  THE   PHILOSOPHERS. 

EIGHTH  PHILOSOPHER. 

Nothing  is  now  to  be  found  in  the  theoretical  province  ; 
Practical  principles  hold,  such  as  :  thou  canst,  for  thou 
BhonJdst. 

PUPIL. 

If  I  but  thought  so  !      When  people  know  no  more  sen- 
sible answer, 
Into  the  coDBcience  at  onca  pluuga  they  with  desperate 
haste. 

DAVID   HUME. 

Don't  converse  with  those  fellows  !   That  Kant  has  turn'd 
them  all  crazy  ; 
Speak  to  me,  for  in  hell  I  am  the  same  that  I  was. 

LAW  POINT. 

I  have  made  use  of  my  nose  for  years  together  to  smell 
with ; 
Have  I  a  right  to  my  nose  that  can  be  legally  prov'd  ? 

PUPFENDORF. 

i 

Truly    a    delicate    point  !       Yet     the     first    possession 
appeareth 
In  thy  favor  to  tell  ;  therefore  make  use  of  it  still  ! 

SCRUPLE   OF   CONSCIENCE. 

Willingly  serve  I  my  friends  ;    but,  alas,    I  do  it  with 
pleasure ; 
Therefore  I  often  am  vex'd,  that  no  true  virtue  I  have. 

DECISION. 

As  there  is  no  other  means,  thou  luidst  better  begin  to 
despise  them ; 
And  with  aversion,    then,    do    that    which    thy  duty 
commands. 


265 

G.  0. 

Each  one,  when  seen  by  liiniself,  is  p;\,ssably  wise  and 
juilicious  ; 
When  they  in  corpore  are,  naught  but  a  blockhead  h 
seen. 


THE  HOMERIDES. 


Who  is  the  bard  of  the  Hiatl  among  you  ?    For  since  he 
likes  i^uddiiigs, 
Heyue  begs  he'll  accept  these    that    from   Gottiugen 
come. 
"  Give  them  to  me  !     The  kings'  qiiarrcl  I  sang  !  " — 
"  I  the  fight  near  the  vessels  !  " — 
"  Hand  mc  the  puddings  !     I  sang  what  upon  Ida  took 
place  !  " 
Gently  !      Don't  tear  mo  to  pieces  !     The  puddings  will 
not  be  Kiiilicient ; 
He  by  Avhom  they  are   sent   destin'd  them    only  for 
ono. 


IHE  MORAL  POET. 

Man  is  in  truth  a  poor  creature, — I  know  it, — and  fain 
Avould  forget  it  ; 
Therefore   (how  sorry  I  am  !)  came  I,  alas,  unto  to 
thee  ! 


THE  DAN  AIDES. 

Into  the  sieve  we've  been  pouring  for  years, — ro'er  the 
stone  we've  been  brooding  ; 
But  the  stone  never  warms, — uor  does  the  sieve  evei 


266 
THE  SUBLIME  SUBJECT. 

Tis  thy  Muse's  delight  to  sing  God's  pity  to  mortals  ; 
But,  that  they  pitiful  ai'e, — is  it  a  matter  for  song? 

THE  ARTIFICE. 

SVouiiDST  thou  give  pleasure  at  once  to  the  children  of 
earth  and  the  righteous  ? 
Draw  the  image  of  lust — adding  the  devil  as  well ! 


JEREMIADS. 

LiiL,  both  ill  prose  and  in  verse,  in  Germany  fast  is 
decaying ; 
Far  behind  us,  alas,  lieth  the  golden  age  now  ! 
for  by  philosophers  spoil'd  is  our  language — our  logic 
by  poets, 
And  no   more   common   sense   governs   our  passage 
through  life. 
From  the  aesthetic,  to  which  she  belongs,  now  virtue  is 
driven, 
And  into  politics  forced,  where  she's  a  troublesome 
guest. 
Where  are  we  hastening  now  ?     If  natural,  dull  we  are 
voted. 
And  if  we  put  on  constraint,  then  the  world  calls  us 
absurd. 
Oh,  thou  jojons  artlessness  'mongst  the  poor  maidens 
of  Leipzig, 
Witty    simplicity    come, — come,    then,    to    glad    us 
again ! 
Comedy,  oh  repeat  thy  weekly  visits  so  precious, 

Sigismund,  lover  so  sweet, — Mascarill,  valet  jocose  ! 
Tragedy,  full  of  salt  and  pungency  epigrammatic, — 

And  thou,  minuet-step  of  our  old  busldu  preserv'd  i 
philosophic    romance,    thou    mannikiu    waiting   with 
patience. 
When,  'gainst  the  pruner's  attack,  nature  defendetb 


Ancient   prose,   oh   retui^u, — so   I'olily  and  boldly  ex- 


pressing 


All  that  thou  think'st  and  b&»t  thought,— and  what 
the  reader  thinks  too  ! 
All,  1  oth  in  i^rose  and  in  v^we,  in  Germany  fast  ia 
decaying  ; 
Far  behind  us,  alas,  liotb  tbe  golden  age  now  I 


KNOWLEDGE. 

Knowledge   to   one   is   a   goddess  both  lieav'nly  and 
high, — to  aDot]\er 
Only  an  excellent  cow,  yielding  the  butter  he  wants. 


KANT  AND  H/S  COMMENTATORS. 

Bee  how  a  single  rich  man  gives  a  living  to  numbers 
of  beggars  ! 
'Tis    v>'hen    sovereigus    build,    carters    are    kept    in 
employ. 


SHAKESPEARE'S  GHOST. 


A  PAKODY. 

I.    TOO,    at    length    discern  M  great  Hercules'   energy 
mighty,  — 
Saw  his  shade.     He  himself  was  not,  alas,  to  he  seen. 
Bound  him  were  heard,  like  the  screaming  of  birds,  the 
screams  of  tragedians. 
And,  with  the  baying  of  dogs,  bark'd  dramaturgists 
around. 
There  stood  the  giant  in  all  his  terrors  ;  his  bow  was  ex- 
tended. 
And  tlie  bolt,  fix'd  on  the  string,  steadily  aim'd  at  the 
heart. 
-'What  still  hardier  action,  Unhappy  One,  dost  thofl 
now  venture. 


268  shakespeabe's  ghost. 

Thus  to  descend  to  tlie  grave  of  the  departed  seals 
here  ?  "— 
"  'Tis  to  see  Tiresias  I  come,  to  ask  of  the  prophet 
"Where  I  the   buskin  of  old,  that  now  has  vanish'u^ 
may  find?" 
"If  they  believe  not  in  Nature,  nor  in  the  old  Orocian, 

but  vainly 
/     Wilt  thou  convey  up  from  hence  that  dramaturgy  tc 

them." 
"  Oh,  as  for  Nature,  once  more  to  tread  oui-  stage   she 
has  ventur'd, 
Ay,  and  stark-naked  besides,  so  that  each  /lb   we  can 
count." 
"  What  ?    Is  the  buskin  of  old  to  be  sseu  iu  truth  on 
your  stage,  then, 
Which    even  I  came   to  fetch,   out  of  mid-Tartarus' 
gloom  ?  " 
"  There  is  now  no  more  of  that  tragic  bustle,  for  scarcely 
Once  in  a  year  on  the  boards  moves  thy  great  soul, 
harness  clad." 
"  Doubtless 'tis  well !  Philosoiihy  now  has  refin'd  your 
sensations. 
And  from  the  humor  so   bright  fly  the   affections  so 
black."— 
"Ay,  there  is  nr  thing  that  beats  a  jest  that  is  stolid  and 
barren, 
But   then   e'en   sorrow  can  please,  if  'tis  sufficiently 
moist." 
"But  do  ye  also  exhibit  the   graceful  dance  of  Thalia, 
Joiu'd   to  the  solemn   step   with   which  Melpomene 
moves?" 
"  Neither  !     For  naught  we  love  but  what  is  Christian 
and  moral ; 
And  wliat  is  popular  too,    homely,    domestic,    and 
plain." 
"  What  ?    Does  no  Caesar,  does  no  Achilles,   appear  on 
your  stage  now. 
Not  an  Andromache  e'en,  not  an  Orestes,  my  friend?" 
"  No  I     There  is  naught  to  be  seen  there   but  parsons, 
and  syndics  of  commerce. 
Secretaries  perchance,   ensigns  and  majors  of  horse. " 
"But  my  good  friend,  pray  tell  me,  what  can  such 

people  e'er  meet  with 
That  can   be  truly  call'd  great  ?— what  that  is  great 
can  they  do  ?  " — • 


rrre  rtvkr.s.  269 

"  WliiU?     "Wliy  thoy  form  cabals,  they  lend  upon  mott- 

^^ago,  thoy  pocket 
Silver  s[)oons,'^  and  fear  not  e'en  in   the   stocks   to   be 

placHl." 
""Wlicnce  do  ye,  tlien,    derive   the   destiny,    great   and 

Wliich  raises  man  up  on  high,  e'en  when  it  grinds  Jiim 
to  dust  ?  " 
'All  mere  nonsense !  Ourselves,  our   Avortliy   acquaint- 
ances also. 
And  our  sorrows  and  wants,  seek  we  and  find  we,  tbo, 
here." 
'but   all   this  ye  jiosscss  at  homo  both  aptcr  ami  bet- 

Wherefore,  then,  fiv  from  yourselves,  if  'tis  youiselves 
that  ye  seek  ?  "' 
•'  Be  not  offended,    great  hero,    for   (hat  is  a  different 
question  ; 
Ever  is  destiny  blind, — ever  is  righteous  the  bard." 
"  Then  one  meets  on  your  stage  your  own  contemptible 
nature, 
Wliile  'tis  in  vain  one  seeks  there  nature  enduring  and 
great?" 
"There   the  poet  is  host   and    act    the     fifth   is   the 
reck'ning; 
And,  when  crime  becomes  sick,  virtue  sits  down  to  the 
feast !  " 


THE  RIVERS. 

RHINE. 

True,  as  becometh  a  Switzer,  I  watch    over   Germany's 
borders ; 
But  tlie  light-footed   Gaul    jumps    o'er  the  suffering 
stream. 

RHINE    AND    MOSELLE. 

Many  a  year  have  I  clasp'd  in  my  arms  the  Lorrainian 
maiden  r 
But  our  union  as  yet  ue  er  has   been  blest  with  a  son. 


270                                           THE  BIVERS. 
DANUBE  IN  


Koundme  are  dwelling  the  falcou-ey'd  race,  tlie  Phoeaciau 
people ; 
Sunday  with  them  never  ends ;    ceaselessly    moves 
round  the  spit. 


MAIN. 


Ay,  it  is  true  that  my  castles  are  crumbling ;  yet,  to  my 
comfort, 
Have    I    for    centui'ies  past   seen  my   old  race   still 
endure, 


SAALE. 


Short  is  my  course,  during  which  I  salute  many  princes 
and  nations  ; 
Yet  the  princes  are   good — ay  !  and  the   nations  ax(? 
free. 


ILM. 


Poor  are  my  banks,  it  is  true  ;  but  yet  my   soft-flowing 
waters 
Many  immortal  lays  hear,  borne  by  the  current  alon«:. 


PLEIS3E. 


Flat  is  my  shore  and  shallow  my   current ;  alas,  all  my 
writers. 
Both  in  prose  and  in  verse,  drink  far  too  deep  of  its 
stream  ! 


ELBE. 


All  ye  others  speak  only  a  jargon  ;  'mongst  Germany's 
rivers 
None  speak  German  but  me  ;  I  but  in  Misnia  alone. 


SPREE. 


Ramler  once  gave  me  language, — my  Csesar  a  subject  ; 
and  therefore 
t  had  my  mouth  then  stuff 'd  full ;  but  I've  been  silent 
fiince  that. 


THn  RivEns.  271 

WESER. 

Nothing,   alas,   can  bo   said  about  me ;  I  really  cau'i 
I'uniish 
Mutter  euough  tu  the  Muse  e'eu  for  au  epigi-am  small. 

MINERAIi   WATERS   AT . 

Singular  country !  what  excellent  taste  in  its  fountains 
and  rivers ! 
In  its  people  alone  none  have  I  ever  yet  found  I 

PEQIitTZ. 

I  for  a  long  time  have  been  a  hypochondriacal  subject ; 
I  but  flow  on  because  it  has  my  habit  beeu  long. 

THE  Rm;RS. 

We  would  gladly  remain  in  the  lands  that  own as 

their  masters ; 
Soft  their  yoke  ever  is,  and  all  their  burdens  are  light. 

SAIiZACH. 

[,    to    salt    the     archbishopric,    come    from    Juvavias 
mountains  ; 
Then  to  Bavaria  turn,  where  they  have  great  need 
of  salt ! 

THE   ANONYJIOUS  BI\rEB.     , 

Lenten  food  for  the  pious  bishop's  table  to  furnish. 
By  my  Creator  I'm  jjour'd  over  the  famishmg  land. 

XiES   FLEUVES    INDISCRETS. 

Pray  be  silent,  ye  rivers  !     One  seec  ye  have  no  more 
discretion 
Than,  in  a  case  we  could  name,  Diderot's  favorites 
had. 


2^^ 
f'HE  METAPHYSICIAN. 


"'  Hovr  far  beneath  me  seems  tlie  earthly  ball  ? 

The  pigmy  race  below  I  scarce  can  see  ; 
How  does  my  art,  the  noblest  art  of  all, 

Bear  me  close  np  to  heaven's  bright  canopy  !  " 
So  cries  the  slater  from  his  tower's  high  top, 

And  so  the  little  would-be-mighty  man, 
Hans  Metaphysicns,  from  out  his  critic-shop 

Explain,  thou  little  would-be-mighty  man  \ 
The  tower  from  which  thy  looks  the  wodd  survey. 
Whereof, — whereon  is  it  erected,  pray  ? 
Flow  didst  thou  mount  it  ?    Of  whdt  use  to  thee 
f  ts  aaJied  heights,  save  o'er  the  vale  io  see  ? 


THE  PHILOSOPHERS. 

The  principle  by  which  each  thing 

Tov/'rd  strength  and  shape  first  tended- 
The  pulley  wh(>reon  Zeus  the  ring 
Of  earth,  that  loosely  us'd  to  swing. 

With  cautiousness  siinpended, — 
He  is  a  clever  man,  I  vow. 
Who  its  I'eal  name  can  tell  me  now^ 
Unless  to  help  him  I  consent — 
'Tis,    ten  and  twelve  are  different  f 


Fire  burns,  'tis  chilly  when  it  snows, 

Man  always  is  two-footed, — 
The  sun  across  the  heavens  goes, — 
Tins  ho  who  naught  of  logic  knows 

Fmds  to  his  reason  suited. 
Yet  he  who  metaphysics  learns. 
Knows  that  naught  freezes  when  it  bums- 
Knows  that  what's  wet  is  never  dry, — 
A.nd  that  what's  bright  attracts  the  eya. 


tHE  PniLOSOPHERS.  273 

Old  Homer  sings  liis  noble  lays, 

Tlio  lu-ro  goes  tlir()ngh  dangcre  ; 
Tlio  bravo  man  duty 'a  cull  obeyti, 
And  did  b  >,  eveu  in  the  days 

"WHieu  sages  yet  were  strangers— 
But  hevrt  nud  genius  n  )\v  have  tau^lit 
WhatL()cl<(!  and  what  Descartes  ne'er  thouglit; 
By  them  immediately  is  shown 
That  which  is  possible  alone. 


In  life,  avails  tlio  right  of  force. 

The  bold  the  timid  worries  ; 
"Who  rules  not,  is  a  slave  of  course, 
Witliout  design  each  tiling  across 

Earth's  stago  for  ever  hurries. 
Yet  what  w.)uld  happen  if  the  plan 
Which  guides  tho  world  now  first  began, 
Within  the  moral  system  lies 
Disclos'd  with  clearness  to  our  eyes. 


"  Wlien  man  would  seek  his  destiny, 

Man's  help  must  then  be  given  ; 
Save  for  the  whole,  ne'er  labors  he, — 
Of  many  drops  is  form'd  the  sea, — 

By  water  mills  are  driven  ; 
Tlierefore  the  wolf's  wild  species  flies, — 
Knit  are  tlie  state's  enduring  ties." 
Thus  Pufliendorf  and  Feder,  each 
Is  ex  cathedra  wont  to  teach. 


Yet  if  what  such  professors  say, 
Each  brain  to  enter  durst  not, 
Nature  exerts  h  r  mother-sway, 
Provides  that  ne'er  the  cliaiu  gives  way, 

And  that  the  ripe  fruits  burst  not. 
Meanwhile,  until  eartli's  structure  vast 
Philosophy  can  bind  at  last, 
'Tis  .s/ic  that  bids  its  pinion  move, 
By  means  of  hunger  and  of  love  ' 


274 

PEGASUS  IN  HARNESS. 

Once  to  a  horse-fair,—  it  may  perhaps  have  been 
Where  other  things  are  bought  and  sold, — I  meaa 
At  the  Haymarket, — there  the  muses'  horse 
A  hungry  poet  brought — to  sell,  of  course,, 

The  hippogriff  neigh'd  shrilly,  loudly^ 

And  rear'dupon  iis  hind-legs  proudly  ; 

In  utter  wonderment  each  stood  and  cried  i 

"  The  noble  regal  beast !     But,  woe  betide  ? 

Two  hideous  wings  his  slender  form  deface, 

The  finest  team  he  else  would  not  disgrace." — 

"  The  breed,"  said  they,  "  is  doubtless  rare, 

But  who  would  travel  through  the  air  ?  " — - 

Not  one  of  t'hem  would  risk  his  gold, 

A-t  length  a  farmer  grew  more  bold  : 

"  As  for  his  wings,  1  of  no  XTse  should  find  themj 

But  then  how  easy  'tis  to  clip  or  bind  them  ! 

The  horse  for  drawing  may  be  useful  found, — 

So,  friend,  I  don  t  mind  giving  twenty  pound  ! " 

The  other,  glad  to  sell  his  merchandise, 

Cried  "Done  ! " — And  Hans  rode  off  upon  his  priza 

The  noble  creature  was,  ere  long,  put-to, 

But  scarcely  felt  the  unaccustom'd  load. 
Than,  panting  to  soar  upward,  off  he  flew, 
A-nd,  fiU'd  with  honest  auger,  overthrew 

Tlie  cart  where  an  abyss  just  met  the  road. 
"Ho  !  ho!"   thought  Hans  :    "No  cart   to   this  maij 

beast 
I'll  trust.     Experience  makes  one  wise  at  least. 
To  drive  the  coach  to-morrow  now  my  course  is. 

And  he  as  leader  in  the  toam  shall  go. 
The  lively  follow'U  save  mo  full  two  horses  ; 

As  years  j)as8  on,  he'll  doubtless  tamer  grow/'' 

All  went  on  well  at  first.     The  nimble  steed 

His  partners  rous'd, — like  lightning  was  their  speed. 

What  happen'd  next  ?     Tow'rd  heaven  was  turu'd  his 

eye,— 
Unus'd  across  the  solid  ground  to  fly, 
He  quitted  soon  the  safe  and  beaten  course^ 
And  true  to  nature's  strong  resistless  force. 


PKGASUS  TN  HARKESS.  275 

Ran  over  bog  nncl  moor,  o'er  liedgo,  and  pasture  till'd  ; 
An  equal  nuulut'ss  sonu  tlio  oHier  lior.ses  fiU'd, — 
No  rt'ins  could  hold  tlu-m  in,  no  help  was  near, 
Till. — only  jiicturc  the  poor  travelers'  fear  i— 
Tlio  coHcli,  well  shaken,  and  completely  wreck'd, 
Ui)OU  a  lull's  steep  top  at  length  was  c'heck'd. 


"  If  this  is  always  sure  to  be  the  case," 

Hans  ci'iod,  and  cut  a  very  sorry  face, 

"He'll  neviT  do  to  draw  a  coach  or  wagon ; 

Let's  see  if  wo  can't  tame  the  fiery  dragon 

By  means  of  heavy  work  and  little  food." 

And  so  the  plan  was  tried. — But  what  ensued  ? 

The  handsome  beast,  before  three  days  had  past. 

Wasted  to  nothing.     "  Stay  !  I  see  at  last !  " 

Cried  Hans.     "Be  quick,  you  fellows!  yoke   him  noyr 

With  my  most  stiu'dy  ox  before  the  plow." 


No  sooner  said  than  done.    In  union  queer 
Together  yok'd  were  soon  wing'd  horse  and  steer. 
The  griffin  jn-anced  with  rage,  and  his  remaining   might 
Exei-tcd  to  resume  his  old-accustom'il  flight. 
'Twaa  all  in  vain — his  partner  stepij'd  with   circumspec- 
tion, 
And  Phosbus'  haughty  steed  must  follow  his  direction  ; 
Until  at  last,  by  long  resistance  spent. 

When  strength  his  limbs  no  longer  was   controlling 
The  noble  creature,  with  alHiction  bent, 

Fell  to  the  ground,  and  in  the  dust  lay  rolling. 
"Accursed  beast !  "  at  length  with  fury  mad 

Hans  shouted,  while  he  soundly  plied  the  lash,  — 
''  Even  for  plowing,  then,  thou  art  too  bad  ! — 
That  fellow  was  a  rogue  to  sell  such  trash  !  " 


Ere  yet  his  heavy  blows  liad  ceas'd  to  fly, 
A  brisk  and  merry  youth  by  chance  came  by, 
A  lute  was  tinkling  in  his  hand, 

And  through  his  hglit  and  flowing  hair 
"Was  twin'd  with  grace  a  golden  band. 

"Whither,  my  friend,  with  that  strange  pair?" 


276  THE  PUPPET- SHOW  OF  LIFE. 

From  far  lie  to  tlie  peasant  cried, 
"A  bird  and  ox  to  oue  rope  tied — 
Was  such  a  team  e'er  heard  of,  pray  ? 
Thy  horse's  worth  I'd  fain  essay  ; 
Just  for  one  moment  lend  him  me, — 
Observe,  and  thou  shalt  wonders  see  !  " 

The  hippogriff  was  loosen'd  from  the  plow, 

Upon  his  back  the  smiUng  youth  leap'd  now  ; 

No  sooner  did  the  creature  understand 

That  he  was  guided  by  a  master-hand, 

Than  'gainst  his  bit  he  champ'd,  and  upward  soar's 

While  lightning  from  his  flaming  eyes  outpour'd. 

tso  longer  the  same  being,  royally 

A.  spirit,  ay,  a  god,  ascended  he, 

Bpread  in  a  moment  to  the  stormy  wind 

His  noble  wings,  and  left  the  earth  behind, 

lud,  ere  the  eye  could  follow  him, 

Had  TJinish'd  in  the  heavens  dim. 


THE  PUPPET-SHOW    OF  LIFE, 

Thotj'rt  welcome  in  my  box  to  peep  ! 
Life's  puppet-show,  the  world  in  little, 
rhou'lt  see  depicted  to  a  tittle, — 

But  pray  at  some  small  distance  keep ! 
'Tis  by  the  torch  of  love  alone, 
By  Ciipid's  taper,  it  is  shown 

See,  not  a  moment  void  the  stage  is  ] 
The  child  in  arms  at  first  they  bring, — 

The  boy  then  skips, — the  youth  now  storms  and 
rages, — 
The  maa  contends,  and  ventiu-es  everything  ! 

Each  one  attempts  success  to  find, 
Yet  narrow  is  the  race-course  ever ; 
The  chariot  rolls,  the  axles  quiver. 

The  hero  presses  on,  the  coward  stays  behind. 
The  proud  man  falls  with  mirth-insi^iring  fall, 
The  wise  man  overtakes  them  all ! 

Thou  seest  fair  woman  at  the  barrier  stand, 
With  beauteous  hands,  with  smiling  eyes. 
To  glad  the  victor  with  his  prize. 


277 

TO  A   YOUNG  FRIEND, 

ON   HIS   DEVOTING   HIMSELF   TO   PHII.OSOPHT. 

Many  an  ardnmis  trial  the  Grecian  yoiitli  hail  to  suffer 
Ere  tir  Kleu.siiiian  house  welcom'd  him  under  its  rod 
Art  tliou  ripe  aud  propar'd,  tlie  holy  ttruplo  to  eutcr, 
Where    hor    mysterious     lore     Pallas    Athene    pre- 
serves ? 
Know'st  thou  -what  there  'tis  awaits  thee  ?    Ho-w  dear 
thy  purchase  may  cost  thee  ? 
That  with  a  gift  that  is  sure,  one  that  is  noi,  thou 
must  buy? 
Feelest  tliou  strength  enough  to  fight  that  sternest  of 
conflicts 
Where  the  reason  and  heart,  mind  and  the  thought 
disagree  ? 
Courage    enough     with     doubt's     undying    hytlra    to 
WTestle, 
And  to  contend  like  a  man  'gainst  the  dread  foe  in 
thyself  ? 
With  an  eye  that  is  sound,  with  a  heart  of  innocence 
sacred, 
Then  to  unmask  the  deceit  veil'd  in  the  garments  o} 
truth  ? 
Fly,  if  thou  canst  not  depend  on  the  guide  within  thino 
own  bosom, 
Fly  froni  the  treacherous  brink,  ere  thou  art  chok'd 
in  the  gulf  I 
Many  have   sought  for  light,    and   only  pluug'd   into 
darkness  ; 
'Tis  but  in  twilight  alone  infancy  wanders  secure  ! 


THE  POETRY  OF  LIFE. 

"  On,  who  would  food  on  dreams  for  ever  fleeing, 

That  with  a  borrow'd  lustre  clothe  the  being, 

Deceiving  hope  with  a  possession  vain  ? 

The  truth  uncover'd  I  would  see  remain, 

Thougii  with  my  dream  should  vanish  all  my  heaven, 

Though  tlio  free  spirit  to  Avhoso  wings  'twas  given 

To  scale  the  Possible's  unbounded  realm, 


^7^  TO   GOETHE. 

The  present  witli  strong  cliains  sliould  overwlielia' 
'Twould  teacli  itself  then  to  obey  ; 

'Twould  find,  then,  duty's  sacred  call, 

And  that  of  need,  most  stern  of  all, 
The  more  subservient  to  its  sway. 
He  vi'lio  "Would  'scape  the  gentle  rale  of  truth, 
Can  he  endure  necessity  forsooth  ?  " 
My  rigid  friend,  thus  dost  thou  cry  and  see 

From  'neath  experience's  safe  portal, 
Looking  with  scorn  on  what  but  seems  to  be. 

Soon  flies  the  loving  band  immortal, 
Stricken  with  terror  by  thy  solemn  word  ; — 
The  dancing  hours  stand  still,    no  muse's  strains  are 

heard, — 
The  sister-deities,  with  beauteous  hair, 
Take  up  their  garlands  now  in  jnute  despair, — 
Apollo  breaks  his  lyre  of  gold, 

His  wondrous  staft"  breaks  Eermes  too. 
While  from  life's  features  wan  and  cold 

Falls  the  dxeam's  veil  of  rosy  hue. 
The  world  a  tomb  is, — Venus'  sou 

The  magic  band  tears  from  his  eyes, — 
His  mother  in  the  godlike  one 

Sees  now  the  mortal, — trembles,  flics. 
Age  steals  on  beauty's  youthful  form, 
Upon  thy  lips  no  more  is  w^arm 
The  kiss  of  love, — ■  and  ere  thy  joy  has  pass'd, 
Xnto  a  lifeless  stone  thou'rt  changed  at  last. 


TO  GOETHE. 

ON   HIS  PRODUCING  VOLT AIBE's    "  MAHOMET  "   ON  THE 

STAGE. 

Thou,   by   whom,  freed   from  rules   constrain'd  and 
wi-ong. 

On  truth  and  nature  once  again  -we're  placed, — 
Who,  in  the  cradle  e'eu  a  h(!ro  strong, 

Stiflest  the  serpents  round  our  genius  lac'd,- 
Thou  whom  tlie  godlike  science  has  so  long 

With  her  unsullied  sacred  fillet  grac'd, — 
Dost  thou  on  ruin'd  altars  sacrifice 
To  that  false  muse  whom  we  no  longer  prize  ? 


TO   GOETHE.  279 

Tlii3  thontre  bflong:s  to  native  nrt, 

No  foreign  idols  worsliipM  lioie  nro  soen  ; 

A  liiuivl  Ave  can  sliow,  with  joyous  hinrt, 

That  on  the  German  rhitlus  has  grown  green: 

Thn  Bciencos'  most  holy,  hidden  part 
Tlio  German  genius  dares  to  enter  e'en, 

And,  foUoAving  the  Briton  and  the  Greek, 

A  nobler  glory  now  attempts  to  seek. 

For  yonder,  where  slaves  kneel,  and  despots  hold 
The  reins, — where  spurious  greatness  lifts  its  head, 

Art  has  no  power  the  noble  there  to  mould, 
'Trs  by  no  Louis  that  its  seed  is  spread ; 

Fr<  im  its  own  fullness  it  must  needs  unfold, 
By  earthly  majesty  'tis  never  fed  ; 

'Tis  with  truth  oidy  it  can  e'er  unite, 

Its  gl(jw  free  spirits  only  e'er  can  light. 

'Tis  not  to  bind  us  in  a  worn-out  chain 
Thou  do^t  this  play  of  clden  time  recal,^ — 

'Tis  not  to  seek  to  lead  us  back  again 

To  days  when  thoughtless  childhood  rul'd  o'eralL 

It  were,'in  truth,  an  idle  risk  and  vain 
Into  the  moving  wheel  of  time  to  fall ; 

The  winged  hours  for  ever  bear  it  on. 

The  new  arrives,  and,  lo  !  the  old  has  gone. 

The  narrow  theatre  is  now  more  wide, 

Into  its  space  a  universe  now  steals ; 
In  pomi)ou3  words  no  longer  is  our  pride, 

Nature  we  hn-e  when  she  her  form  reveals  ; 
Fashion's  false  rules  no  more  are  deified  ; 

And  as  a  man  the  hero  acts  and  feels. 
'Tis  passion  makes  the  notes  of  freedom  sound, 
And  'tis  in  truth  the  beautiful  is  found. 

Weak  is  the  frame  of  Thespis'  chariot  fair, 
l\esemi)ling  mueli  the  bark  of  Acheron, 

That  carries  naught  but  shaih^s  and  forms  of  air  ; 
And  if  rude  life  should  ventiu-e  to  press  on. 

The  fragile  bai'k  its  weight  no  more  can  bear. 
For  fleeting  spirits  it  can  hold  alone. 

Appearance  ne'er  can  reach  reality, — 

If  natui-e  be  victorious,  ai't  must  lly. 


280  NTJI"nAIj  ODE. 

For  on  the  stage's  boarded  scaffold  lier* 

A  world  ideal  opens  to  our  eyes, 
Nothing  is  true  and  genuine  save — a  tear ; 

Emotion  on  no  dream  of  sense  relies. 
The  real  Meli^omene  is  still  sincere, 

Naught  as  a  fable  merely  she  sui^plies — ■ 
By  truth  jDrofound  to  charm  us  is  her  care ; 
The  false  one,  ti'uth  pretends,  but  to  ensnara. 

Now  from  the  scene,  Art  threatens  to  retire, 
Her  kingdom  wild  maintains  still  Phantasy ; 

The  stage  she  like  the  world  would  set  on  fu'e, 
The  meanest  and  the  noblest  mingles  she. 

The  Frank  alone  'tis  Ai-t  can  now  insphe. 
And  yet  her  archetype  can  his  ne'er  be ; 

In  bounds  unchangeable  confining  her. 

He  holds  her  fast,  and  vainly  would  she  stir. 

Tlie  stage  to  him  is  pure  and  undefil'd ; 

Chas'd  from  the  regions  that  to  her  belong 
Are  Nature's  tones,  so  careless  and  so  wdd. 

To  him  e'en  language  rises  into  song ; 
A  realm  harmonious  'tis,  of  beauty  mild, 

Where  limb  unites  to  limb  in  order  strong. 
The  whole  into  a  solemn  temple  blends, 
And  'tis  the  dance  that  grace  to  motion  lends. 

And  yet  the  Frank  must  not  be  made  our  guide. 
For  in  his  art  no  living  spirit  reigns  ; 

The  boasting  gestm-es  of  a  spurious  i)ride 

That  mind  which  only  loves  the  true  disdains. 

To  nobler  ends  alone  be  it  applied, 

Keturning,  lili:e  some  soul 's  long  vanish'd  manes. 

To  render  the  oft-sullied  stage  once  more 

A  throne  befitting  the  gr-eat  muse  of  yore. 


NUPTIAL  ODE* 

Fair  bride,  attended  by  our  blessing, 
Glad  Hymen's  flowery  path  'gin  pressing ! 

We  witness'd  with  cni-aptur'il  eye 
The  graces  of  thy  soul  unl'okhng, 
Thy  youthful  chai-ms  then*  beauty  moulding 

•  Addressed  in  the  original  to  Mdlle  Slevoigt,  on  Uer  marriage  to  Dr. 
Stunn. 


GRECIAN   GENIUS.  281 

To  blossom  for  love's  ecatacy. 
A  liiii)i>y  fate  now  liovers  nnuid  thee, 

Aiul  irii'iidslii;)  yulds  without  a  smart 
To  that  bM-eet  gud  -whcso  iiiight  liatli  liouud  thee  ;— 

He  needs  must  haw,  ho  luitk  thy  heart  ! 

To  duties  dear,  to  troubles  tender. 

Thy  youthful  breast  must  now  sun-ender, 

Thy  garland's  sunmions  nuist  obey. 
Each  toying  inlantnio  Keusation, 
Each  fleeting  sport  of  youth's  cieation, 

For  evermore  hath  passed  away  ; 
And  Hymen's  sacred  bond  new  chaineth 

Wliere  soft  and  llutt'ring  Love  Avas  shiin'd  ; 
Yet  for  a  heart,  where  Ijeauty  reigneth, 

Of  flowers  alone  that  bond  is  twin'd. 

The  secret  that  can  keep  for  ever 

In  verdant  links,  that  nought  can  sever. 

The  l)ridal  garland,  wouldst  thou  find? 
'Tis  purity  the  heart  pervading. 
The  blossoms  of  a  grace  unfading. 

And  yet  with  modest  shame  combin'd. 
Which j^  Uke  the  eiin's  reflection  glowing. 
Makes  every  heart  throb  IjlissfuUy; — 
'Tis  looks  with  mildness  overflowing, 

And  Belf-maintainmg  dignity ! 


GRECIAN  GENIUS. 

TO  MEYER  IN   ITALY. 

ypEECHTiESs  to  thousands  of  others,  who  with  deaf  hearts 
would  consult  him, 
Talketh  the  spirit  to  thee,  who  art  his  kinsman  and 
friend. 


VERSES  WRITTEN  IN   THE  ALBUM  OF  A 

FRIEND. 

(here   von   MECHELN   of   BASLE.) 

Nature    in    charms    is    exliaustless,    in    beauty   ever 
reviving  ; 
And,  like  natui-e,  fair  art  is  inexhaustible  too. 


282     TEKSES  "WEITTEN  IK  THE  AliBtTM  OF  A  FRIEND. 

Hail,  thoii  honor'd  old  man  !  for  both  in  thy  heart  thou 
preservest 
Living  sensations,  and  thus  ne'er  ending  youth  is  thj 
lot! 


VERSES    WRITTEN   IN    THE  FOLIO  ALBUM 
OF  A  LEARNED  FRIEND. 

Once  wisdom  dwelt  in  tomes  of  ponderous  size, 

While  friendshii^  from  a  pocket-book  would  talk ; 
But  now  that  knowledge  in  small  compass  lies. 

And  floats  in  almanacs, as  light  as  cork, 
Coiu-ageous  man,  thou  dost  not  hesitate 
To  ojien  for  thy  friends  this  house  so  great ! 
Hast  thou  no  fear,  I  seriously  v/ould  ask. 
That  thou  may'st  thus  their  patience  overtask  ? 


THE  PRESENT. 

King  and   staflf,  oh   to  me  on  a  Khenish   flask  ye  are 
welcome  ! 
Him  a  true  shepherd  I  call,  who  thus  gives  drink  to 
his  sheep. 
Draught  thrice  blest !     It  is  by  the  Muse  I  have  won 
thee, — the  Muse  too, 
Sends  thee, — and  even  the  Church  places  upon  thee 
her  seal. 


WILLIAM   TELL* 

When  hostile  elements  with  rage  resound, 
And  fm-y  blindly  fans  war's  lurid  flame, — 

When  in  the  strife  of  party  quarrel  di'own'd, 
The  voice  of  justice  no  regard  can  claim, — 

Wlien  crime  is  free,  and  impious  hands  are  found 
The  sacred  to  pollute,  d(noid  of  shame. 

And  loose  the  anchor  which  the  State  maintaiEis, 

No  subject  there  we  find  for  joyous  strains. 


*  These  verses  were  sent  by  Schiller  to  the  then  Electoral  Sigh 
Chancellor,  wilh  a  copy  of  his  '  William  Tell.' 


TO  THE   nEREDITART  PRINCE  OF  'VrEIMAR,    ETC.     283 

But  wlioTi  a  nation,  that  its  flocks  still  feeds 
With  calm  content,  n<jr  other's  wealth  desirefl, 

Tlirows  oil'  the  cruel  yoke  'ueath  which  it  bleeds, 
Yet  e'en  in  vratli,  Imnianity  ndniires, — 

And  e'en  in  triumph,  moderation  heeds, — 
That  is  immortal,  and  onr  song  requires. 

To  8h»w  thee  snch  an  image  now  is  mine  ; 

Thou  know'st  it  well,  for  all  that's  great  is  thine 


TO  THE  HEREDITARY  PRINCE  OF  WEIMAR, 
ON  HIS  PROCEEDING   TO  PARIS. 

(sung  in  a  circijE  of  fkiends.) 

With  one  last  bumper  let  us  hail 

The  wanderer  belov'd, 
Who  takes  his  leave  of  this  still  vale 

Wherein  in  youth  he  rov'd. 

From  loving  arms,  from  native  home, 

He  tears  himself  away. 
To  yonder  city  proud  to  roam. 

That  makes  whole  lands  its  prey. 

Dissension  flies,  all  tempests  end, 

And  chain'd  is  strife  abhorr'd  ; 
We  in  the  crater  may  descend 

From  whence  the  lava  pour'd. 

A  gracious  fate  conduct  thee  through 

Life's  wild  and  mazy  track  ! 
A  bosom  nature  gave  thee  true, — 

A  bosom  true  bring  back  ! 

Thou'lt  A'isit  lands  that  war's  wild  train 

Had  erush'd  with  careless  iieed ; 
Now  smiling  Peace  sahites  the  plain, 

And  strews  the  golden  seed. 


284       THE  COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  NEW   CENTDKTf, 

The  lioaiy  Father  Rhine  thou'lt  greet, 

^Yho  thy  forefather*  blest 
Will  think  of,  whilst  his  waters  fleet 

In  ocean's  bed  to  rest. 

Do  homage  to  the  hero's  manes, 

And  oflfer  to  the  Rhine, 
The  German  frontier  who  maintains, 

His  own-created  vrine, — 

So  that  thy  country's  soul  thy  guide 
May  be,  when  thou  hast  cross'd 
On  the  frail  bark  to  yonder  side, 

Where  German  faith  is  lost ! 


^HE  COMMENCEMENT  OF  THE  NEW 
CENTURY. 

TO  

Wheke  will  a  place  of  refuge,  noble  friend, 

For  peace  and  freedom  ever  open  lie  ! 
The  century  in  tempests  had  its  end, 

The  new  one  now  begias  with  murder's  cry. 

Each  land-connecting  bond  is  torn  away. 
Each  ancient  custom  hastens  to  decline  ; 

Not  e'en  the  ocean  can  war's  tupault  stay. 
Not  e'en  the  Nile-god,  not  the  lioary  Rliine. 

Two  mighty  nations  strive,  with  hostile  power. 

For  undivided  mastery  of  the  world  ; 
And,  by  them,  each  land's  freedom  to  devour, 

The  trident  brandish'd  is — the  lightning  Inirl'd. 


•  Duke  Bernard  of  Weimar,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  Thirty  Years' 
War. 


FiREWELIi   TO   THE   READER. 

Each  country  must  to  them  its  gold  afford, 
And,  Brenuns-like,  upon  tlio  fatal  day, 

Tlie  Frank  now  throws  his  heavy  iron  sword, 
The  even  scales  of  justice  to  o'erweifjh. 

His  merchant-flrots  tho  Briton  grofdily 
Extends,  like  Holyp-limbs,  on  ev'17  side  ; 

And  the  domain  of  Anipliitrite  free 

As  if  his  home  it  Averc,  would  fain  bestride. 

E'en  to  the  south  pole's  dim,  remotest  star, 

His  restless  course  moves  onward,  uurestrain'd  ; 

Each  isle  he  tracks, — each  coast,  however  far, 
But  Paradise  alone  he  ne'er  has  gain'd  ' 


285 


I 


Although  thine  eye  may  ev'ry  map  explore, 
Vainly  thou'lt  seek  to  find  that  blissful  place, 

Where  freedom's  gai'den  smiles  for  evermore. 
And  where  in  youth  still  blooms  the  human  race. 

Before  thy  gaze  the  world  extended  lies, 
The  very  shipping  it  can  scarce  embrace  ; 

And  yet  upon  her  back,  of  boundless  size. 
E'en  for  ten  happy  men  there  is  not  space  \ 

Into  thy  bosom's  holy,  silent  cells, 

Thou  needs  must  tiy  from  life's  tumultuous  throng  I 
Freedom  but  in  the  realm  of  visions  dwells, 

And  beauty  bears  no  blossoms  but  in  song. 


FAREWELL   TO  THE  READER. 

A  MAIDEN  blush  o'er  ev'ry  feature  straying. 

The  Muse  her  gentle  harp  now  lays  down  here, 

And  stands  before  thee,  for  thy  judgment  praying, — 
She  waits  with  reverence,  but  not  with  fear  ; 

Her  last  farewell  for  his  kind  smile  dela.A-ing. 

Wliom  splendor  <lazzlesnot,  wlio  holds  trutli  dear. 

The  hand  of  him  alono  whose  soaring  spirit 

Worships  the  Beautiful,  can  crown  her  merit. 


286  faeewelij  to  the  eeadeb. 

Tbese  simple  lays  are  only  lieard  resounding, 
Wliile  feeling  hearts  are  gladden'd  by  tlieir  tone 

With  brighter  phantasies  their  path  surrounding 
To  nobler  aims  their  footsteps  guiding  on. 

Yet  coming  ages  ne'er  will  hear  them  sounding. 
They  live  but  for  the  jiresent  hour  alone  ; 

The  i^assing  moment  call'd  tliem  into  being, 

And,  as  the  hours  dance  on,  they,  too,  are  fleeing. 

The  spring  returns,  and  nature  then  awaking, 
Bursts  into  life  across  the  smiling  plain  ; 

Each  shrub  its  perfume  through  the  air  is  shaking, 
And  heaven  is  fill'd  with  one  sweet  choral  strain  ; 

While  young  and  old,  their  secret  haunts  forsAldng 
With  raptur'd  eye  and  ear  rejoice  again, 

The  spring  then  flies, — to  seed  return  the  flowers^ 

And  naught  remains  to  mark  the  vauisli'f'  bouri. 


SUPPRESSED  POEMS, 


DEDICATION 

TO 

MY  PRINCIPAL. 

(o) 

Most  liigli  and  D.iglity  Czar  of  all  flesh,  ceaseless  reducer 
of  emiDires,  unfatliomable  glutton  in  the  -wliole  realms  of 
Eature. 

"With  the  most  profoujid  flesh-creeping  I  take 
the  hbertj  of  kissing  the  rattling  leg-bones  of  your  vora- 
cious Majesty,  and  humbly  lajang  tliis  little  book  at  your 
dried-up  feet.  My  predecessors  have  always  been  ac- 
customed, as  if  on  piupose  to  amioy  you,  to  transport 
their  goods  and  chattels  to  the  archives  of  eternity; 
directly  under  your  nose,  forgetting  that,  by  so  doing, 
they  only  made  yoiu*  mouth  Tvater  the  more,  for  the 
proverb,  Stolen  bread  tastes  sweetest,  is  applicable  even 
to  you.  No  !  I  prefer  to  dedicate  this  work  to  you,  feel- 
ing assured  that  you  will — thi-ow  it  aside. 

But,  joking  apart  !  methinks  w-e  two  know <  ach  other 
better  than  by  mere  hearsay.  Enrolled  in  til  ?  order  of 
^sculapius,  the  first-born  of  Pandora's  box,  as  old  as  the 
fall  of  man,  I  have  stood  at  yotu'  altar, — have  sworn 
undying  hatred  to  your  hereditaiy  foe  Nature,  as  the  son 
of  Hamilcar  to  the  seven  hills  of  Rome, — have  sworn  to 
besiege  her  Avdth  a  whole  army  of  medicines, — to  throw 
up  barricades  round  the  obstinate  soul, —  to  drive  from 
the  field  the  insolents  who  cut  down  your  fees  and  cripple 
your  finances, — and  on  the  Ai-chsean  battle-plain  to  plant 
your  michiight  standard. — In  rctm-u  (for  one  good  turn 
deserves  another),  you  must  prepare  for  me  the  precious 
Talisman,  which  can  save  me  from  the  gallows  and  the. 
wheel  iininjiired,  and  Avith  a  whole  skin — 

Jueque  datum  scelcvi.  * 


bEDlCATtOM.  2S0 

Como  then  !  act  the  {generous  Msecciias  ;  for  observe,  I 
should  bo  Sony  to  fare  like  my  foolhardy  colleagues  and 
cousins,  who,  armed  Avith  stiletto  and  pockct-pLstol,  hold 
thou-  ci)iirt  in  gloomy  ravines,  or  mix  in  the  subten-aneaii 
laboratory  the  wontkous  polyclirest,  which,  when  taken 
with  proper  zeal,  tickles  our  political  noses,  either  too 
little  or  too  much,  with  tlirono  vacancies  or  state-fevere.  — 
D'Amiens  and  Ravaillac  !— Ho,  ho,  ho  !— 'Tis  a  good 
thing  for  straight  limbs  ! 

Perhaps  you  have  been  whetting  your  teeth  at  Easter 
and  Michaelmas  ?  —the  great  book-epidemic  times  at 
Leipzig  and  Frankford  !  Hm-rah  for  the  waste-paper  I — 
'twill  make  a  royal  feast.  Y'^-ur  nimble  brokers,  Gluttony 
and  Lust,  bring  you  whole  cargoes  fi-om  the  fair  of  life. — 
Even  Ambition,  your  grandpapa — War,  Famiuo,  Fire, 
and  Plagae,  your  mighty  hiuitsmen,  have  pi-ovided  yoi: 
with  many  a  jovial  mau-chase. — Avaiice  and  Covetous- 
ness,  your  strndy  butlers,  drink  to  joux  health  Avliole 
towns  floating  in  the  bubbling  cup  of  the  world-ocean.-  I 
know  a  kitchen  in  EiU'opo  Avhere  the  raicst  dishes  havt) 
been  served  up  in  yo;u'  honor  with  festive  pomp. — And 
yet — who  has  ever  kno^-n  you  to  be  satisfied,  or  to  com- 
plain of  indigestion? — Yoiir  digestive  faculties  are  of 
iron  ;  your  entrails  fathomless  ! 

Pooh — I  had  many  other  things  to  say  to  you,  but  1 
am  in  a  hurry  to  V)o  off. — You  aro  an  ugly  brother-in-law 
— go  ! — I  hear  you  are  calculating  on  living  to  see  a 
general  collation,  wliere  great  and  small,  globes  and 
lexicons,  i^hilosopliics  and  knick-knacks,  will  fly  into 
your  jaws — a  good  appetite  to  you,  sL^iidd  it  come  to 
that. — Yet,  ravenous  wolf  that  you  ai-e  !  take  care  that 
you  don't  over-eat  yourself,  and  have  to  disgorge  to  a 
hair  all  that  you  have  swallowed,  as  a  certain  Athenian 
(do  particular  friend  of  yoiu's,  by-the-by)  has  pro 
phesied. 


PREFAClL, 


Tobolsko,  the  2nd  Febniary. 
Tnm  primnm  radiis  gelidi  incaluere  Tnones. 

Flowees  in  Siberia  ? Beliind  tills  lies  a  piece  of 

knarery,  or  the  sun  must  make  face  against  midniglit. — 
And  yet — if  ye  were  to  exert  yourselves  !  'Tis  really  so  ; 
we  have  been  hunting  sables  long  enough  ;  let  us  for 
once  in  a  way  try  our  luck  with  flowers.  Have  not 
enough  Europeans  come  to  us  step-sons  of  the  sun,  and 
waded  through  our  hundred-years'  snow,  to  pluck  a 
modest  flower  ?  Shame  upon  our  ancestors — we'll  gather 
them  ourselves,  and  frank  a  whole  basketful  to  Europe. — 
Do  not  crush  them,  ye  children  of  a  milder  heaven  ! 

But  to  be  serious. — To  remove  the  iron  weight  of 
prejudice  that  broods  heavily  over  the  north,  requires  a 
stronger  lever  than  the  enthusiasm  of  a  few  individuals, 
and  a  fii-mer  Hypomochlion  than  the  shoiddcrs  of  two 
or  three  patriots.  Yet  if  this  Anthology  reconciles  you 
squeamish  Europeans  to  us  snow-men  as  little  as — let's 
suppose  the  case — our  '  Muses'  Almanac, '  *  which  we — 
let's  again  suppose  the  case — might  have  written,  it  will 
at  least  have  the  merit  of  helping  its  companions  throiigh 
the  whole  of  Germany  to  give  the  last  neck-stab  to 
expiring  taste,  as  wo  jjcople  of  Tobolsko  like  to  word  it. 

If  your  Homers  talk  in  their  sleep,  and  your  Herculeses 
kill  flies  with  their  cilubs, — if  every  one  who  knows  how 
to  give  vent  to  his  portion  of  sorrow  in  dreary  Alex- 


•  This  was  the  title  of  the  publication  In  which  many  of  the  finest  Of 
8iBtUler'8  "  Poems  of  the  Third  Period"  originally  appeared. 


PREFACE.  291 

anclrmee,  fnterprets  that  as  a  call  to  Helicon,  shall  we 
NorthoniB  be  blamed  for  tinkling  the  Muses'  lyre? — 
Your  matadors  claim  to  have  coined  silver,  when  they 
have  stamped  tliiir  effigy  on  Avretched  pewter ; — and  at 
Tobolsko,  coiners  are  hanged.  'Tis  true  that  you  may 
often  find  paper-money  amongst  us  instead  of  Russian 
roubles,  but  war  and  hard  times  arc  an  excuse  for  any- 
tiling. 

Go  forth,  then,  Siberian  Anthology  ! — Go  ! — thou  wilt 
make  many  a  coxcomb  hapjiy,  wilt  be  placed  by  him  on 
the  toilet  table  of  his  sweetheart,  and  in  reward  wilt 
obtain  her  alabaster,  lily-white  hand  for  his  tender  kiss. — 
Go! — thou  wilt  fill  up  m  ly  a  weary  gulf  of  ennui  in 
assemblies  and  city-visits,  and,  may  be,  relieve  a  Circas- 
sienne,  who  has  confessed  herself  weary  amidst  a  shower 
of  calumnies. — Go  ! — thou  wilt  be  consulted  in  the 
kitchens  of  many  critics  ;  they  Avill  liy  thy  hght,  and, 
like  the  screech-owl,  retreat  into  thy  shadow  ! — Ho,  ho, 
ho ! — Already  I  hear  the  ear-cracking  howls  in  the 
inhospitable  forest,  and  anxiously  conceal  myself  in  my 
sabla. 


292 

tHE  JOURNALISTS  AND  MINOB, 

I  CHANCED  the  other  eve, — 

But  hoio  I  ne'er  will  tell, — 
The  paper  to  receive 

That's  publish'd  down  in  hell. 

In  general,  one  may  guess, 

I  little  care  to  see 
This  free-corps  of  the  press 

Got  up  so  easily  ; 

But  suddenly  my  eyes 

A  side-note  chanced  to  meet, 

Aaid  fancy  my  siirjirise 

At  reading  in  the  sheet : — 

"  For  twenty  weary  springs" 

(The  post  from  Erebus, 
Remark  me,  always  brings 

Unpleasant  news  to  us)— 

"Through  want  of  water,  we 

Have  well-nigh  lost  our  breatls  | 

In  gi-eat  pr-rijlexity 

Hell  came  and  ask'd  for  Death  | 

"  '  They  can  wade  through  the  StySj 
Catch  crabs  in  Lethe's  flood ; 

Old  Charon's  in  a  fix, 

His  boat  lies  in  the  mud. 

•* '  The  dead  leap  over  there, 

The  young  and  old  as  well ; 
The  boatman  gets  no  fare. 

And  loudly  curses  Hell.' 

"  King  Minos  bade  his  spies 

In  al  1  directions  go ; 
The  devils  needs  must  rise. 

And  bring  him  news  below. 


THK   J0UBNAXI8T8   AND   MINOS. 

"  Hurrnli !     Tlio  socrpfs  told  ! 

They've  cnufcht  the  robber's  neit 
A  merry  fenst  let's  hold  ! 

Come,  Hell,  and  join  the  rest ! 

"An  authors'  countless  band, 

StaUi'd  roiind  Cocytus'  brink, 

Each  beai-ing  in  his  hand 
A  glass  for  holding  ink, 

"  And  into  casks  they  dre-w 

The  ^vHter,  strange  to  say. 
As  boys  suck  sweet  Avine  through 

An  elder-reed  in  play. 

"Quick  !  o'er  them  cast  the  net, 

Ero  they  have  time  to  flee  ] 
WoTni  welcome  ye  will  get, 

So  come  to  Bans-souci ! 

"  Smelt  by  the  king  ere  long. 

He  sharpen'd  up  his  tooth, 
And  thus  address'd  the  throng 

(Full  angrily,  in  truth)  : 

"  '  The  robbers  is't  wo  see  ? 

Wimt  trade  ?     What  land,  perchance  ?'- 
'  German  news- writers  we  !' 

'  Enough  to  make  us  dance  ! 

"  '  A  wish  I  long  have  known 

To  bid  ye  stop  and  dine, 
Ere  .ye  by  Death  were  mown, 
That  brother-in-law  of  mine. 

"  'Yet  now  by  Styx  I  swear, 

Whose  tiood  ye  would  imbibe, 
That  torments  and  despair 

Shall  till  your  vermin- tribe! 

"  'The  pitchrr  seeks  the  well, 

Till  brcAen  'tis  one  day  ; 
They  who  for  ink  would  smellj 

The  penalty  must  jjay. 


293 


294  BACCHTJS  IN  THE  PlLIiORT, 

"  '  So  seize  them  by  tlieir  tlmmbu. 
And  loosen  straight  my  beast 

E'en  now  he  licks  his  gums, 

Impatient  for  the  feast,' — 

"How  quiver'd  ev'ry  limb 

_  Beneath  the  bull-dog's  jaws  ' 
Their  honors  baited  him, 

And  he  allow'd  no  pause. 

"  Convulsively  they  swear, 

Still  writhe  the  rabble  rout, 

Engaged  with  anxious  care 

In  pumping  Lethe  out." 

Ye  Christians,  good  and  meek, 
This  vision  bear  in  mind ; 

If  journalists  ye  seek. 

Attempt  their  thumbs  to  find. 

Defects  they  often  hide, 

As  folks  whose  hairs  are  gone 

We  see  with  wigs  supplied  : 
Probatum  !     I  have  done  I 


BACCHUS  IN   THE  PILLCRY. 

TwiKL  him  !  twirl  him  !  blind  and  dumb, 
Deaf  and  dumb. 

Twirl  the  carle  so  troublesome  I 
Sprigs  of  fashion  by  the  dozen 
Thou  dost  bring  to  book,  good  cousio. 

Cousin  thou  art  not  in  clover  ; 
Many  a  head  that's  lill'd  with  smoke 
Thou  hast  twirl'd  and  well-nigh  broke, 
Many  a  clever  one  perplex'd, 
Many  a  stomach  sorely  vex'd, 

Turning  it  completely  over  ; 
Many  a  hut  put  on  awry, 
Many  a  lamb  chas'd  cruelly, 
Made  streets,  houses,  edges,  trees, 
Dance  around  us  fools  with  ease. 


BACCHUS   IN  THE   PILLORY.  295 

Therefore  thou  art  not  in  clover, 
Tliereforo  thou,  like  ©tin  r  folk, 
Hast  thy  hoad  tiU'd  full  of  Hinoke, 
Therefore  thou,  too,  art pi'r2)ltx'<l, 
Ami  thy  KtiJinach's  sorely  vex'd, 

For  'tis  turu'd  completely  over  ; 

Therefore  thou  art  not  in  clover. 

Twirl  him  !  t-wirl  him  I  blind  and  dumb, 
Ueaf  and  dumb, 

Twirl  tlio  carle  so  troublesome  I 
Seest  thoii  how  our  tongues  and  witfc 
Thou  hast  shiver'd  into  bits — • 

Seest  thou  this,  licentious  wight? 
How  we're  fasten 'd  to  a  string, 
Whirl'd  around  in  giddy  ring, 
Making  all  like  night  appear, 
Filling  with  strauge  sounds  our  ear  5 

Learn  it  in  the  stocks  aright  ! 

When  our  ears  wild  noises  shook, 
On  the  sky  we  cast  no  look. 
Neither  stock  nor  stone  r"view'd. 
But  were  punish 'd  as  wo .  tood. 

Seest  thou  now,  licentious  wight? 
That,  tons,  yon  tltiriug  sun 
Is  the  Heidelbergors'  tun  ; 
Castles,  mountains,  trees  and  towers, 
Seem  like  chopin-cups  of  ours. 

Learu'st  thou  now,  licenti<ju8  weight? 

Learn  it  in  the  stocks  aright ! 

Twirl  him !  twirl  him  !  blind  and  diimbj 
Deaf  and  dumb. 

Twirl  the  carle  so  troublesome  ! 
Kinsman,  once  so  full  of  glee. 
Kinsman,  where's  thy  drollery, 

Where  thy  tricks,  thou  cunning  one? 
All  tliy  tricks  are  spent  and  past, 
To  the  devil  gone  at  last  ! 
Like  a  silly  fop  thou'lt  prate, 
Like  a  waslun-womrin  rate. 

Thou  art  but  a  simpleton. 
Now  thou  may'st — more  shame  to  thee — 


296  spiNosAo 

Kun  away,  because  of  me  ; 

Cupid,  that  young  rogue,  may  glory 

Learning  ■wisdom  from  tliy  story 
Haste,  thou  sluggard,  hence  to  flee ! 

1^.8  from  glass  is  cut  our  "nit, 

So,  like  lightning,  'twill  be  sj^lit ; 

If  thou  v/on't  be  chas'd  away. 

Let  each  folly  also  stay  ! 
Seest  my  meaning  ?    Think  of  me  I 
Idle  one,  away  with  thee  ] 


SP/NOSA. 

A  MIGHTY  oak  here  ruin'd  lies, 
Its  top  was  wont  to  kiss  the  skies. 
Why  is  it  now  o'erthrown  ? — 
The  i^easants  needed,  so  they  said, 
Its  wood,  wherewith  to  build  a  shed, 
And  so  they've  cut  it  down. 


EPITAPH. 

Here  lies  a  man  cut  ciT  by  Fate 
Too  soon  for  all  good  men  ; 

For  sextons  he  died  late — too  late 
For  those  who  wield  the  pen. 


TO  THE  FATES. 

Not  iu  the  crowd  of  masqueraders  gay. 

Where  coxcombs'  Avit  with  woudi-ous  splendor  flareSj 
And,  easier  than  tlio  Indian's  net  the  prey. 

The  virtue  of  young  beauties  snares  ;^ 

Not  at  the  toilet-table  of  the  fair. 

Where  vanity,  as  if  before  an  idol,  bows, 

And  often  breathes  a  warmer  prayer 
Tlian  when  to  Heaven  it  pays  its  vowe  j 


TO   THE   FATES.  297 

Antl  not  behind  tho  curtain's  cunning  vnil. 

Where  the  wi-rU's  eye  is  liitl  hj  cheating  night, 

And  glowing  lluraes  tlio  hearts  assnil, 
That  seeni'J  but  chilly  in  the  light, — 

Wlioro  \7isdom  wo  surpn'se  with  shame-dyed  lip, 

Wliile  I'hoebus'  rays  she  buldly  drinks, 
Wlicre  men,  like  thievish  children,  ni^etar  sip. 

And  from  tho  spheres  e'en  Plato  sinks — 

To  ye — to  ye,  O  lonely  sister-baud. 

Daughters  of  Destiny,  ascend, 
When  o'er  the  lyre  ail-gently  sweeps  my  hand. 

These  strains,  where  bliss  and  sadness  blend. 

You  only  has  no  sonnet  ever  woo'd. 

To  win  your  gold  no  usurer  e'er  sigh'd. 
No  coxcomb  e'er  with  plaints  your  steps  pursued, 

For  you,  Arcadian  shepherd  ne'er  has  died. 

Your  gentle  fingers  ye  for  ever  ply, 

Life's  nervous  thread  -with  care  to  twist, 

Till  sound  the  clanging  shears,  and  fruitlessly 
The  tender  web  would  then  resist. 

Since  thou  my  thread  of  life  hast  kindly  spun. 

Thy  hand,  O  Clotho,  I  now  kiss  ! 
Since  thou  hast  spar'd  thut  life,  whilst  scarce  beguU; 

Receive  this  nosegay,  Lachesis  ! 

Full  often  thorns  upon  tho  thread. 

But  oft'ner  rcwes,  thou  hast  strung; 
For  tliorna  and  roses  there  outspread, 

Clotho,  to  thee  this  lay  be  sung  ! 

Oft  did  tempestuous  passions  rise. 

And  threat  to  break  the  thread  by  force ; 

Oft  projects  of  gigantic  size 

Have  check'd  its  free,  unfetter'd  course. 

Oft,  in  sweet  hours  of  heav'nlv  bliss. 

Too  fine  appear'dthe  thread  to  me; 
Still  oft'ner  when  near  sorrow's  dark  abysa, 

Too  firm  its  fabxic  seem'd  to  be. 


298  KliOPSTOCK   AJO)   -SVIEIiAXD. 

ClotliOj  for  this  and  other  lies, 

Thy  pardon  I  -vvith  tears  implore ; 
Henceforth  I'll  take  whatever  prize 

Sage  Clothe  gives,  and  ask  no  more. 

But  never  let  the  shears  cut  off  a  rose — 
Only  the  thorns, — yet  as  thou  will'st ! 

Let,  if  thou  will'st,  the  death-shears  sharply  close, 
If  thou  this  single  prayer  fulflll'st! 

Oh,  goddess  !  when,  enchain 'd  to  Laura's  breath, 
My  spirit  from  its  shell  breaks  free. 

Betraying  when,  upon  the  gates  of  death, 
My  youthful  Life  hangs  giddily. 

Let  to  infinity  the  thread  extend,  * 

'Twill  wander  through  the  realms  of  bliss,— 

Then,  goddess,  let  thy  cruel  shears  descend ! 
Then  let  them  fall,  O  Lachesis ! 


KL0P8T0GK  AND  Wl ELAND. 

(when  their  miniatukes  were  hanging  side  by  side,) 

In  truth,  when  I  have  cross'd  dark  Lethe's  river. 
The  man  upon  the  right  I'll  love  for  ever. 

For  'twas  he  fii'st  that  wrote  for  me. 
For  all  the  world  the  left  man  wrote,  full  clearly, 
A-ud  so  we  all  should  love  him  dearly ; 

Come,  left  man  !     I  must  needs  kiss  thee  ! 


DIALOGUE. 

A.  Haes,  neighbor,  for  one  moment  stay  !— 
Herr  Doctor  Scalpel,  so  they  say. 
Has  got  off  safe  and  sound  ; 
At  Paris  I  your  uncle  found 
Fast  to  a  horse's  crupper  bound,- 
yet  Scalpel  made  a  king  his  prey. 


TTTE   PABALLEI-.  290 

B.  Ob,  dear  me,  no !    A  real  misnomer, 
The  fiict  is,  he  Las  Lis  dijiloma; 
Tlie  otlicr  one  has  not. 
A.  Eh  I     What?     Has  a  diploma? 

In  Suabia  may  such  things  bo  got  ? 


THE  PARALLEL 

Her  likeness  Madame  Ramler  bids  mo  find  ; 

I  try  to  think  in  vain,  to  xuhom  or  hoiv  ; 
Beneath  the  moon  there's  nothing  of  the  kind. — 

I'll  show  she's  like  the  moon,  I  vow  ! 

The  moon— she  rouges,  steals  the  sun's  bright  light, 
By  eating  stolen  bread  her  living  gets,— 

Is  also  Avont  to  paint  her  cheeks  at  tight. 
While,  with  untiring  ardor,  she  coquets. 

The  moon— for  this  may  Herod  give  her  thanks  ! — 
Eeserv'cs  her  best  till  niglit  may  have  return'd  ; 

Our  lady  swallows  up  by  day  the  francs 
That  she  at  night-time  may  have  earn'd. 

The  moon  first  swells,  and  then  is  once  more  lean. 
As  eurely  as  the  mor  th  comes  roiind  ; 

With  Madame  Eamler  'tis  the  same,  I  ween- 
But  she  1X3  need  more  time  is  found  ! 

The  moon  to  love  her  silver  horns  is  said, 

But  makes  a  soriy  show  ; 
/S'/jc  likes  them  on  her  husband's  head, — 

She's  right  to  have  it  so  ! 


THE  MUSES'  REVENGE, 

AN   ANECDOTE   OF    HELICON. 

Once  the  Nine  all  weeping  came 

To  the  God  of  Song  : 
"  Oh,  papa  !  "  they  there  exclaim- 

"  Hear  our  tale  of  wrong  I 


300  THE  MtrSES'  EETENGS, 

**  Totmg  ink-lickers  swarm  about 

Our  dear  Helicon ; 
There  they  fight,  manoeuTre,  shoui^ 
Even  to  thy  throne. 

**  On  their  steeds  they  gallop  hard 

To  the  spring  to  drink, 
Each  one  calls  himself  a  bard — 
Minstrels — only  think  ! 

"  There  they — how  the  thing  to  name  ? 

"Would  our  persons  treat — 
This,  without  a  blush  of  shame, 

We  can  ne'er  repeat ; 

"  One,  in  front  of  all,  then  cries, 

'  I  the  army  lead  ! ' 
Both  his  fists  he  wildly  plies, 
.    Like  a  bear  indeed ! 

"  Others  wakes  he  in  a  trice 
With  his  whistlings  rude  ; 

But  none  follow,  though  he  twice 
Has  those  sounds  renew'd. 

"  He'll  return,  he  threats,  ere  long, 
And  he'll  come  no  doubt ! 

Father,  friend  to  lyric  song. 
Please  to  show  him  out ! — " 

Father  Phoebus  laughing  hears 
The  complaint  they've  brought ; 

*'  Don't  be  frighten'd,  pray,  my  dearSj, 
We'll  Boon  cut  them  short ! 

**  One  must  hasten  to  hell-fire, 

Go,  Melpomene  ! 
Let  a  Fury  borrow  lyre. 

Notes,  and  dress,  of  thee. 

"Let  her  meet,  in  this  array. 

One  of  these  vile  crews. 
As  though  she  had  lost  her  Wdy 

Soon  as  night  ensues. 


EPITAPH.  801 

"Then  •with  kissog  dnrk,  I  tnist, 

They'll  tlio  d(?ar  child  greet, 
Satisfying  their  wild  lust 

Just  as  it  is  meet ! " — 

Said  nud  done  ! — The  one  from  hell 

Soon  was  dress'd  aright. 
Scarcely  had  the  prey,  they  tell, 

Caught  the  i'ellows'  sight, 

Than,  as  kites  n  ]iigeon  follow, 

They  nttack'd  her  straight  — 
Part,  not  all  tiiough,  I  can  swallow 

Of  what  folks  relate. 

If  fair  boys  were  'mongst  the  band, 

How  came  they  to  be — 
This  I  cannot  understand, — 

In  such  comjiany  ? 

*  *  *  * 

The  goddess  a  miscarriage  had,  good  lack  1 
And  was  deliver'd  of  au — Almanack  ! 


EPITAPH. 

ON   A   CERTAIN   PHYSIOGNOMIST. 

On  ev'ry  nose  he  rightly  read 
What  intellects  were  in  the  head  : 
And  yet — that  he  was  not  the  one 
By  whom  God  meant  it  to  be  done, 
This  on  his  own  he  never  red. 


THE  HYPOCHONDRIACAL  PLUTO. 
A  KOMANCE. 


BOOK  I. 


The  sullen  mnyrr  who  reigns  in  hell, 

By  mortals  I'luto  height, 
"Who  thi-ushes  all  his  Bubjects  well. 


302  THE  HTPOCHONDKIACAL  PliUTO, 

Both  mom  and  eve,  as  stories  tell. 

And  rules  the  realms  of  night, 
All  pleasure  lost  in  cursing  once, 
All  joy  in  flogging,  for  the  nonce. 

The  sedentary  life  he  led 

Upon  his  brazen  chair 
Made  his  hiud-quarters  very  red. 

While  pricks,  as  from  a  nettle-bed, 

He  felt  both  here  and  there  : 
A  burning  sun,  too,  chanc'd  to  shine, 
And  boil'd  down  all  his  blood  to  brine. 

'Tis  true  he  drank  full  many  a  draughi 
Of  Phlegethon's  black  flood  ; 

By  cupping,  leeches,  doctors'  craft, 

And  venesection,  fore  and  aft. 
They  took  from  him  much  blood. 

Full  many  a  clyster  was  applied. 

And  purging,  too,  was  also  tried. 

His  doctor,  vers'd  in  sciences. 

With  wig  beneath  his  hat. 
Argued  and  show'd  with  wondrous  ease. 
From  Celsus  and  Hippocrates, 

When  he  in  judgment  sat, — 
"Eight  worshipful  the  mayor  of  hell. 
The  liver's  wrong,  I  see  full  well." — 

*'  He's  but  a  booby,"  Pluto  said, 
'*  With  all  his  trash  and  pills  ! 

A  man  like  me — pray  where's  his  head  ? 

A  young  man  yet — his  wits  have  fled  ! 
While  youth  my  veins  yet  fills  ! 

UnlesB  electuaries  he'll  bring, 

Full  in  his  face  my  club  I'll  fling  !  " 

Or  right  or  wrong, — 'twas  a  hard  case 

To  weather  such  a  trial ; 
(Poor  men,  who  lose  a  king's  good  grace  !) 
He's  straight  saluted  in  the  face 

By  ev'ry  splint  and  phial. — 
He  very  wisely  made  no  fuss  ; 
This  hint  he  learnt  of  Cerberus. 


tHE  lITPOCHONDRIACAli  riiTTTO.  fi63 

"  Go  !  fetch  the  harbor  of  the  skieB, 

Apollo,  to  nie  Boon  !  " 
An  airy  courier  straightway  flios 
Upon  his  beast,  and  onward  liics. 

And  skims  past  jjoles  and  moon  ; 
As  he  wt'ut  ot!',  the  clock  struck  fonr, 
At  hve  Lis  charger  reached  the  door. 

"  Just  tht-u  Apollo  happon'd— "  Heigh-ho  I 

A  ?onnct  to  have  made  ?  " 
Oh,  dear  me,  no  ! — upon  Miss  lo 
(Such  is  tlie  tiile  I  heard  from  Clio) 

The  midwife  to  have  play'd. 
The  boy,  as  if  stampi  d  out  of  wax, 
Might  Zeus  as  father  fairly  tax. 

He  read  the  lott(-r  half  asleep, 

Then  started  in  dismay  ; 
"  The  road  is  long,  and  hell  is  deep. 
Your  rocks  I  know  are  rough  and  steep  .  , 

Yet  like  a  king  he'll  pay  !  " 
He  dons  his  cap  of  mist  and  furs, 
Then  through  the  air  the  charger  spurs. 

With  locks  all  frizzled  a  la  mode. 

And  ruffles  smooth  and  nice. 
In  gala  dress,  that  brightly  giow'd 
(A  gift  Aurora  had  bestow'd). 

With  watch-chains  of  high  price, 
With  toes  turn'd  out,  and  c/uqieaii  has,-^ 
He  stood  before  hell's  mighty  czar. 


BOOK  II. 

The  grumbler,  in  his  usual  tone, 

Receiv'd  him  witli  a  curse  : 
"  To  romcraiiia  straiglit  begone  ! 
Ugh  !  hi'W  ho  smells  of  can  de  Cologne  \ 

WTiy,  brimstone  isn't  worse. 
He'd  i)est  be  otV  to  heaven  again, 
Or  he'll  infect  hell's  wide  domain." 


304  THE  HYPOCHONDRIACAL  PLtJTO 

The  god  of  pills,  in  sore  surprise, 
A  spring  then  backwards  took  .  .  . 

"  Is  this  his  highness'  nsiial  guise  ? 

'Tis  in  the  brain,  I  see,  that  lies 
The  mischief — what  a  look ! 


See  how  his  eyes  in  frenzy  roll  ! 
The  case  is  bad,  upon  my  soul  ! 


"A  journey  to  Elysium 
Th'  infectus  would  dissolve. 

Making  the  saps  1<  ss  tough  become, 

Asthroiagh  the  capitolium 
And  stomach  they  revolve, 

Provisionally  be  it  so : 

Let's  start,  then — but  incognito  !  "— 


"Ay,  worthy  sir.  No  doubt  well  meant! 

If,  in  these  regions  hazy. 
As  with  you  folk,  so  charg'd  with  scent, 
You  dapjjer  ones,  who  heaven  frequent, 

'Twere  proper  to  be  lazy. 
If  hell  a  master  needed  not, 
Why,  then  I'd  follow  on  the  spot ! 


"Ha  !  if  the  cat  once  turn'd  her  back, 
Pray  where  would  be  the  mice  ? 

They'd  sally  forth  from  ev'ry  crack. 

My  very  mufti  would  attack, 
Spoil  all  things  in  a  trice  ! 

Oddsbodikins  !    'tis  pretty  cool ! 

I'll  let  him  see  I'm  no  such  fool ! 


"A  pleasant  uproar  liappen'd  erst, 
When  they  assail'd  my  tower ! 

No  fault  of  mine  'twas,  at  tl:e  worst, 

That  from  their  desks  and  chains  to  burst 
Philosophers  had  jjower. 

What,  has  tliere  e'er  escaped  a  poet? 

Help,  heaven  I  what  misery  to  know  it  I 


Tni2  fivPocHoNDr.iACAL  rLcTo.  '505 

''When  clays  are  long,  folks  talk  more  stuflf ! 

Upon  your  scats,  no  doubt, 
With  nil  your  cards  and  music  rough, 
And  scribblings  too,  'tis  hard  enough 

The  moments  to  eko  out. 
Idleness,  like  a  flea,  will  gnaw 
On  velvet  cushioas, — as  on  straw. 


"  My  brother  no  attempt  omits 

To  drive  away  ennui ; 
Pis  lightning  round  about  him  flits,, 
The  target  with  his  storms  he  hits 

(Those  howls  prove  that  to  me). 
Till  Ehea's  trembling  shoulders  ache, 
find  force  mo   e'en  for  hell  to  quake. 


•'Were  I  grandfather  Coelus,  though. 

You  wouldn't  soon  escape  ! 
Into  my  belly  straiglit  you'd  go, 
A.nd  in  your  swaddling-clothes  cry  'oh  !' 

And  through  five  windows  gape  ! 
ITirst  o'er  my  stream  you'd  have  to  come, 
<ind  then,  jjcrhaps,  to  Elysium  ! — 


"Your  steed  you  mounted,  I  dare  say. 

In  hopes  to  catch  a  goose  ; 
[f  it  is  worth  the  trouble,  pray 
1*011  what  you've  heard  from  me  to-day. 

At  shaving-time,  to  Zeus. 
Just  leave  him,  then,  to  swallow  it ; 
I  don't  carfc  what  he  thinks,  a  bit ! 


"•'  You'd  bettor  acw  go  homeward  straight'' 
Your  servai  :;  !  there's  the  door  ! 

JFor  all  your  pain»5 — one  moment  wait! 

J'll  give  you — libeial  is  the  rate — 
A  piece  of  ruby-ore. 

£n  heaven  such  things  are  rarities . 

W;?  Uoe  them  for  base  pui-posjes." — 


306  THE   HyPOCHO>rt)RlACAli  PlitJtd. 

BOOK  III. 

The  god  at  once,  tlien,  said  farewell, 
At  small  politeness  striving ; 

Wlieu  sudden  tlirougb  the  crowds  of  hell 

A  flying  courier  rush'd  pell-mell, 
From  Tellus'  bounds  arriving. 

"Monarch  !  a  doctor  follows  me  ! 

Behold  this  wondrous  prodigy  !" 

"Place  for  the  doctor  !"  each  one  said — 
He  comes  with  spurs  and  whip, 

To  ev'ry  one  he  nods  his  head, 

As  if  he  had  been  bora  and  bred 
In  Tartarus, — the  rip  ! 

As  jaunty,  fearless,  full  of  vo5? 

As  Britons  in  the  Lower  House. 


"  Good  morrow,  worthy  sirs  ! — Ahem  ! 

I'm  glad  to  see  that  here 
(Wliere  all  they  of  Prometheus'  stem 
Must  come,  whene'er  the  Fates  condemn 

One  meets  with  such  good  cheer  ! 
Wliy  for  Elysium  care  a  rush  ? 
I'd  rather  see  hell's  fountains  gush  !" — 


"  Stop  !  stop  !  his  impudence,  I  vow, 

Its  due  reward  shall  meet ; 
By  Charles's  Wain,  I  swear  it  now  ! 
He  must — no  questions  I'll  allow, — 

Prescribe  me  a  receipt. 
All  hell  is  mine,  I'm  Pluto  hight  ! 
Make  haste  to  bring  your  wares  to  light  I** 

The  doctor,  with  a  knowing  look, 

The  swarthy  king  3urvey'd  ; 
He  neither  felt  his  pulse,  nor  took 
The  usual  steps, — (see  Galen's  book),— 

No  difference  'twould  have  made 
As  piiTcing  as  electric  fire 
He  ey'd  him  to  his  heai't's  desire. 


At/r^ON.  30' 

'Monnrc'li !  I'll  tt'll  thoe  in  a  trice 

Tlu!  tiling  tliiit'H  ueodod  licrt'; 
Though  (IcsjxTftte  mfly  Betni  the  aclvice,- 
The  oaso  itself  is  very  nice — 

Anil  children  dragons  fear. 
Devil  must  devil  oat! — no  more  ! — 
Either  a  wife, — nr  hellebore  ! 

"  Whether  she  scold,  or  sportive  play 
('Tweeii  these,  no  medium's  kuo^vn), 

She'll  drive  the  incubus  away 

That  has  assail'd  thee  many  a  day 
Upon  thine  iron  throne. 

Slie'U  make  tlie  nimble  spirits  fleet 

Up  tow'rds  the  liead,  down  tow'rds  the  feet,'* 

Long  may  the  doctor  honoui-'d  be 

Who  let  this  saying  fall ! 
He  ought  to  liave  his  effigy 
By  Phidias  sculptnr'd  so  that  he 

May  be  disceru'd  by  all ; 

A  monument  for  ever  tliriving, 

Bocrhaave,  Hiiipocrates,  surviving ! 
♦  *  *  ♦ 


ACTy€ON. 

Thy  wife  is  destin'd  to  deceive  thee  ! 
She'll  set»k  another's  arms  and  leave  thee, 

And  horns  upon  thy  head  will  shortly  sprout  \ 
How  dreailful,   that,   when  bathing,   thou  shonJ Jot  see 
mo 

(No  ajther-bath  can  wash  the  stigma  out). 
And  then,  in  perfect  innocence,  shouldst  flee  me  t 


TRUST  IN  IMMORTALITY. 

The  dead  has  risen  hei-e,  to  live  thro'  endless  ages  ^ 
This  I  with  firmnt^sa  trust  and  know. 

I  was  first  led  to  cjuess  it  by  the  sages, 

The  knaves  convince  mo  that  'tis  rcallj  so. 


308 

REPROAGH—TO  LAURa. 

Maiden,  stay!— oh,  whither  wouklsfc  thou  go? 
Do  I  stiil  or  i^xide  or  gi-andeur  show  ? 

Maiden,  was  it  right  ? 
Tliou  the  giant  mad'st  a  dwarf  once  more, 
Scatter'dst  far  ths  mountains  that  of  yore 
.  Climb'd  to  gloiy's  sunny  height. 

Thou  hast  doom'd  my  flow'rets  to  decay, 
All  the  phantoms  bright  hast  blov,Ti  away. 

Whose  sweet  foUies  form'd  the  hero's'trust; 
All  my  i^lans  tliat  proudly  rais'd  their  head 
Thou  dost,  with  thy  gentle  zephyr-tread, 

Prostrate,  laughing,  in  the  dust. 

To  the  godhead,  eagle-hke,  I  flew,— 
Smiling,  fortune's  jugghng  wheel  to  view, 

Cai-eless  wheresoe'er  her  ball  might  fly ; 
Hov'ring  far  beyond  Cocytus'  wave, 
Death  and  life  receiving  like  a  slave — 

Life  and  death  from  out  one  beaming  eye ' 

Like  the  victors,  who,  with  thunder-lance. 
On  the  iron  plain  of  glory  dance, 

Starting  from  their  mistress'  breast,— 
From  Aurora's  rosy  bed  upspriugs 
God's  bright  sun,  to  roam  o'er  to%vns  of  kings, 

And  to  make  the  young  world  blest ! 

Tow'rd  the  hero  doth  this  heart  still  strain  ? 
Drink  I,  eagle  still  the  fiery  rain 

Of  thine  eye,  that  biu-neth  to  destroy  ? 
In  the  glances  that  destructive  gleam, 
Laura's  love  I  see  with  sweetness  beam, 

Weep  to  see  it — like  a  boy  ! 

My  repose,  like  yonder  image  bright, 
Dancing  in  the  Avaters— cloudless,  light, 

Maiden,  hatli  been  slain  by  thee ! 
On  the  dizzy  height  now  totter  I — 
Laura — if  from  me — my  Laura  fly ! 

Oh,  the  thought  to  madness  hiW-Ties  me  3 


REPnOACn — TO  LAtJKA.  30y 

GlnclJy  shout  tlio  revellers  as  tlu-j  qiiiifif, 
Kiiptiircs  111  tlic  li-iif-crowii'd  ^/ohk't  limfi-h, 

Jests  witliiu  the  k<'1*1''11  'wine  have  birth. 
Since  th(!  maiden  hath  enslavM  uiy  mind, 
I  have  left  each  youthful  fii)ort  behind,  ' 

Friendless  roam  I  o'er  the  earth. 

Hear  I  still  bright  glory's  tlnmder-tone  ? 
Doth  the  laurel  still  allure  mo  on? 

Doth  thy  l\Te,  Apollo  Cynthius? 
In  my  breast  no  echoes  now  arise, 
Ev'ry  shame-fac'd  muse  in  sorrow  flics, — 

And  thou,  too,  Apollo  Cynthius  ? 

Shall  I  still  be,  as  a  woman,  tame  ? 
Do  my  pidscs,  at  my  country  s  name, 

Proudly  burst  their  prison-thralls  ? 
Would  I  boast  tlie  eagle's  soaring  wing? 
Do  I  long  with  Roman  blood  to  spiing, 

When  my  Hermann  calls  ? 

Oh,  how  sweet  the  eye's  wild  gaze  divine ! 
Sweet  to  quaff  the  incense  at  tliat  shrine  ! 

Prouder,  bolder,  swells  the  breast^  — 
That  which  once  set  ev'iy  sense  on  fire, 
That  which  once  could  ev'ry  ner\'e  inspke, 

Scarce  a  half-smile  now  hath  power  to  wrest  1 

That  Orion  might  receive  my  fame. 

On  the  time-flood's  heaving  waves  my  name, 

Rock'd  in  gloiy  in  the  mighty  tide  ; 
So  that  Kronos'  dreaded  scythe  was  shiver'd, 
When  against  my  monument  it  quiver'd, 

Tow'ring  tow'rd  firmament  in  pride. 

Smil'st  thou?— No?  To  me  naught  perish'dnow! 
Star  and  laurel  I'll  to  fools  allow, 

To  the  dead  their  marble  cell ; — 
Love  hath  grauteil  all  as  my  reward, 
High  o'er  man  'twere  easy  to  have  soar'd. 

So  I  love  him  Avell  1 


310 
THE  SIMPLE  PEASANTS 

MATTHEW. 

Gossip,  you'll  lilie  to  liear,  no  doubt ! 
A  learued  work  lias  just  come  out — 
Messias  is  the  name  'twill  bear  ; 
The  man  has  travel'd  through  the  air. 
And  on  the  sun  beplaster'd  roads, 
Has  lost  shoe-leather  by  whole  loads, — 
Has  seen  the  heavens  lie  open  wide, 
And  hell  has  travers'd  with  whole  hide. 
The  thought  has  just  occixrr'd  to  me 
That  one  bo  skill'd  as  he  must  be 
May  tell  us  how  our  flax  and  wheat  arise. 
What  say  you  ? — Shall  I  try  to  ascertain  ? 

LTOKE. 

fou  fool,  to  think  that  any  one  so  wise 

About  mere  flax  and  corn  would  rack  his  ^ir^iai. 


THE    MESS/AD. 

Rei.igion  'twas  produced  this  poem's  fli'e ; 
Perverted  also  ? — i^rithee,  don't  'mr^^ahe  I 


MAN'S  DIGNIJf^ 

I  AM  a  man  ! — Let  ev'ry  one 

Who  is  a  man  too,  spring 
With  joy  beneath  Gotl's  shining  sun, 

And  leap  on  high,  and  sing ! 

To  God's  owi\  image  fair  on  earth 
Its  stamp  I've  power  to  show  ; 

Down  to  the  front,  where  heaven  has  birth 
With  boldness  I  dare  go. 


'  A  pointless  satire  upon  Klopstock  and  his  Meaaias. 


man's  dignity.  31} 

Tifl  vreVi  that  I  both  dare  aud  can  I 

"When  I  a  muiden  see, 
a.  voice  exchiim.s  :  thou  art  a  man  I 

1  kiss  her  teuderly. 

Aud  redder  then  the  maiden  grows, 

Her  bodice  seems  too  tiglit — 
Th-iit  I'm  a  man  the  maid<  n  knows, 

Her  bodice  therefoi-e's  tight. 

Will  she,  perchance,  for  pity  cry. 

If  uuiiwares  s'ne's  caught  ? 
She  finds  that  I'm  a  man— then,  why 

By  her  is  pity  sought  ? 

I  am  a  man  :  and  if  alone 

She  sees  me  drawing  near, 
I  make  the  emperor's  daughter  ran. 

Though  ragged  I  appeiu-. 

This  golden  watchword  wins  the  smile 

Of  many  a  ])riucess  fair  ; 
They  call— ye'd  best  look  out  the  while. 

Ye  gold-laced  fellows  there  ! 

That  I'm  a  man,  is  fully  shown 
Whene'er  my  lyre  I  sweep  ; 

It  thunders  out  a  glorious  tone- 
It  otherwise  would  creep. 

The  spirit  that  my  veins  now  hold, 

My  manhood  calls  its  brother ! 
And'both  commands,  like  lions  bold. 

And  fondly  greet  each  other. 

From  out  this  same  creative  flood 

From  which  we  men  have  birth, 
Both  godlik<*  strength  and  genius  bud. 

And  ev'ry  thiug  of  worth. 

My  talisman  all  tyrants  hates, 

Arid  strikes  them  to  the  ground  ; 
Or  guides  us  gladly  tlirou^^h  life's  gatee 

To  where  the  dead  are  luuud. 


312  man's  DIGNTTT. 

E'en  Tompey,  at  Pliarsalia's  fight. 

My  talismau  o'ertlirev\^ ; 
On  German  sand  it  hurl'd  -with,  might 

Rome's  sensual  children  too. 

Didst  see  the  Eoman,  proud  and  stem. 

Sitting  en  Afric's  shore  ? 
His  eyes  lilie  Heela  seem  to  burn, 

And  fiery  flames  outpour. 

Then  comes  a  frank  and  merry  knave, 
And  spreads  it  through  the  land : 

"  Tell  them  that  thou  on  Carthago'  grave 
Hast  seen  great  Marius  stand  ! 

Thus  sj)eaks  the  son  of  Rome  "s^ath  prids. 

Still  mighty  in  his  fall ; 
He  is  a  man,  and  naught  beside, — 

Before  him  tremble  all. 

His  grandaous  afterwards  began 
Their  portions  to  o'ertbrow, 

And  thought  it  well  that  ev'ry  man 
Should  learn  with  grace  to  crow. 


to-' 


For  shame,  for  shame, — once  more  for 
shame  ! 

The  wretched  ones  ? — they've  even 
Squander'd  the  tokens  of  their  fame, 

The  choicest  gifts  of  Heaven. 

God's  counterfeit  has  sinfully 

Disgrac'd  his  form  divine. 
And  in  his  vile  luimanity 

Has  wallow'd  lilie  the  swine. 

The  face  of  earth  each  vainly  treads, 
Like  gourds,  that  boys  in  sport 

Have  hoUow'd  out  to  human  heads, 
With  skulls,  Avhose  brains  are — naughli. 

Like  wine  that  by  a  chemist's  art 

Is  through  retorts  refin'd, 
iTieir  spirits  to  the  deuce  depart, 

The  phlegma's  left  behind. 


nyMN  TO  1UE  ETHRNAL.  313 

From  ev'ry  -woman's  face  tbey  fly, 

Ita  very  n.sp«ct  uViiul, — 
Aiitl  if  they  dar'tl — aud  could  not — wliy, 

'I'were  better  they  were  dead. 

*  *  *  + 

Tlioy  sbiin  r.ll  v.ortlues  when  they  can, 

Grief  at  tlieir  joy  they  prove — 
The  man  who  cannot  make  a  man 

A  man  can  never  love  ! 


The  world  I  proudly  wander  o'er. 
And  plume  myself  and  siup: : 

I  am  a  man  ! — Whoe'er  is  more  ? 
Then  leap  on  high  and  sirring  ! 


HYMN  70  THE  ETERNAL 

TwixT  the  heavens  and  earth,  high  in  the  airy  ocean, 

In  the  tempest's  cradle  I'm  born  with  a  rocking  motion  ; 
Clouds  are  tow'ring, 
Storms  beneath  me  are  low'ring. 

Giddily  all  the  wonders  I  see. 

And,  O  Eternal,  I  think  of  Thee  ! 


All  Thy  terrible  pomp,  lend  to  the  Finite  now, 
Mighty  Nature  !     Oh,  of  luliuity,  thou 

Giant  daughter  ! 

Mirror  God,  as  in  water  ! 
Tempest,  oh,  let  thine  organ-peal 
God  to  the  reasoning  worm  reveal ! 


Hnrlv  !  it  peals — how  the  rocks  quiver  beneath  ita  gi-owls 
Zebaoth's  glorious  name,  wildly  the  hurricane  howls .' 

Graving  the  while 

With  the  lightning's  style  : 

"  CkEATUBES,  J)0  XE  ACKNOV.IiEDGE  !Mr  ?" 

Bpajo  us,  Lord !    We  acUuowledge  Thek  I 


314 

THOUGHTS  ON  THE  1st  OCTOBER,  1781. 

What  mean  the  joyous  sounds  from  joadei-   vine-clad 
height  ? 
Wliat  the  exulting  Evoe  ?* 
Why  glows  the  cheek  ?     Whom  is't  that  I,  with  pinioni 
light, 
Swinging  the  lofty  Thyrsus  see  ? 

Is  it  the  Genius  whom  the  gladsome  throng  obeys  ? 

Do  I  his  numeroiis  train  descry  ? 
In  plenty's  teeming  hoi*n  the  gifts  of  heaven  he  sways. 

And  reels  from  very  ecstasy  ! — 

See  how  the  golden  grape  in  glorious  beauty  shines, 
Kish'd  by  the  earliest  morning-beams  ! 

The  shadow  of  yon  bow'r,  how  lovingly  it  signs, 
As  it  with  countless  blessings  kams  ! 

Ha  !  glad  October,  thou  art  welcome  unto  me  ! — 

October's  first-bom,  welcome  thou  ! 
Thanks  of  a  purer  kind,  than  all  who  worship  thee, 

More  heartfelt  thanks  I'm  bringing  now  ! 

For  thou  to  me  the  one  whom  I  have  lov'd  so  well, 
And  love  with  fondness  to  the  grave, 

Who  merits  in  my  heart  for  evermore  to  dwell, — 
The  best  of  friends  in  Rieger  t  gave. 

'Tis  true  thy  breath  doth  rock  the  leaves  iipon  the  trees. 
And  sadly  make  their  charms  decay  ; 

Gently  they  fall  : — and  swift,  as  morning,'  phantasies 
With  those  who  waken  fly  away. 

'Tis  true  that  on  thy  track  the  fleecy  spoiler  hastes, 
Wlio  makes  all  nature's  chords  resound 

With  discord  dull,  and  turns  the   plains   and  groves   to 
wastes, 
So  that  they  sadly  mourn  around. 

'  Schiller,  who  is  not  very  particular  about  the  quantities  of  classical 
names,  give*  this  word  with  the  o  loiit;— which  is,  of  course,  the  correct 
qcantity — in  The  Gailti  of  (rrecce  (sec  page  73). 

t  A  well-known  General,  who  died  lu  1783. 


•lEOUGHTS  ON  THE  IsX  OCTOBER,    1781.  316 

See  how  the  gloomy  forms  of  vf^ars,  ns  on  they  roll, 

Each  joyous  bauqiK't  ovt  rthrows, 
When,  in  uplil'tod  hand,  from  out  tlic  foaming  bowl, 

Joy's  noble  jjuri^le  brightly  llow.s  ! 

See  how  they  disappear,  -when  friends  sweet  converse  hold, 

And  loving  wander  arm-in-arm  ; 
And,  to  revenge  tliemsflves  on  winter's  north  wind  cold, 

Upon  each  other's  breasts  grow  warm  ! 

And  when  Spring's  children  smile  upon  ns  once  again, 
Wlien  all  the  youthfnl  splendor  bright, 

When  each  melodions  note  of  each  sweet  rapturous  strain 
Awakens  with  it  each  delight : 

How  joj-ons  then  the  stream  that  our  whole  soul  per- 
vades ! 

Wliat  life  from  out  our  glances  pours  ! 
Sweet  Philomela's  song,  resounding  tlmmgh  the  glades. 

Ourselves,  our  youthful  strength  restores  ! 

Oh,    may  this  whisper  breathe, — (let    Eieger  bear   in 
mind 

The  storm  by  which  in  age  we're  bent !) — 
His  guardian  angel,  when  the  evening  star  so  kind 

Gleams  softly  from  the  firmament ! 


In  silence  be  he  led  to  yonder  thund'ring  height, 

And  guided  be  his  eye,  that  he. 
In  valley  and  on  pLiiu,  may  see  his  fi-iends  aright, 

And  that,  with  growing  ecstasy, 

On  yonder  holy  spot,  when  he  their  number  tells 
He  may  experience  friendship's  bliss. 

Now  first  unveil'd,  until  with  pride  his  bosom  swells, 
Conscious  that  all  their  love  is  his. 

Then  will  the  distant  voice  be  loudly  heard  to  say  : 
"And  G — ,too,  is  a  friend  of  thine  ! 

When  silv'ry  locks  no  mure  around  his  temples  play, 
G —  still  will  bi3  a  i'lii  ud  of  thine  ! 


316  1?HB  "WiKTEliBEKGES. 

"  E'en  yonder  " — and  now  in  his  eye  the  crystal  tear 
Will  gleam — "e'en  yonder  he  will  love  ! 

Love  thee  too,  wlien  Ms  heart,    in  yonder  spring-lik« 
sphere, 
Tiink'd  on  to  thine,  can  rapture  prove  !  " 


THE  WIRTEMBERGER. 

The  name  of  Wirtemberg  they  hold 
To  come  from  Wirth  am  Berg*  I'm  told. 
A  Wirtemberger  who  ne'er  drinks 
Jfo  Wirtemberger  is,  methiuks  ! 


THE  PLAQUE. 


A  PHANTASY. 

PiiAGTJE's  contagions  murderous  breath 
God's  strong  might  with  terror  reveals, 

As  through  the  dreary  valley  of  death 
With  its  brotherhood  fell  it  steals  ! 

Fearfully  thiobs  the  anguish-struck  heart, 
Horribly  quivers  each  nerve  in  the  frame ; 
Frenzy's  wild  laughs  the  torment  proclaim, 

Howling  cenvulsions  disclose  the  fierce  smart. 

Fierce  delirium  writhes  upon  the  bed — 
Poisonous  mists  bang  o'er  the  cities  dead ; 

Men  all  haggard,  pale,  and  wan, 

To  the  shadow-realm  press  on. 
Death  lies  brooding  in  the  humid  air, 
Plague,  in  dark  graves,  piles  up  treasures  fair. 

And  its  voice  exultingly  raises. 
Funeral  silence — churchyiird  calm, 
Rapture  change  to  dread  alarm, — 

Thus  the  plague  God  wildly  praises  ! 


The  Landlord  on  the  Mountain. 


317 

THE  MOLE. 

HDSBAND. 

The  boy's  my  vory  image  !     Sea  ! 
Even  the  bcoi's  my  small-jjox  left  me  ! 

WIFE. 

I  can  believe  it  easily  : 

Tliey  once  of  all  my  sensed  reft  me. 


MONUMENT  OF  MOOR   THE  ROBBER*- 

'Tis  ended  ! 

Welcome  !  'tis  ended  ! 

Oh  thou  sinner  majestic, 

All  thy  terrible  i^art  is  now  play'd  I 

Noble  abas'd  one  ! 

Thou,  ^of  thy  race  beginner  and  ender  I 

Wondrous  sou  of  her  fearfulest  humor, 

Mother  Nature's  blunder  subUme  ! 

Through  cloud-cover'd  night  a  radiant  gleam  ! 
Hai'k  liow  behind  him  the  portals  are  closing  ! 
Night's  gloomy  jaws  veil  liim  darkly  in  shada  ! 

Nations  are  trembling, 
At  his  destructive  splendor  afraid  ! 
Thou  art  welcome  !     'Tis  ended  ! 
Oh  thou  sinner  majestic. 
All  thy  terrible  part  is  now  play'd  ! 

( !rumble, — decay 
In  the  cradle  of  wide-open  heaven  ! 
Terrible  eiglit  to  each  sinner  that  breathes, 
^Tien  the  hot  thirst  for  glory 
JJaises  its  barriers  over  agatnst  the  l>reai>  thbone  ! 
See  !  to  eternity  shi^me  has  cousigu'd  thee  ! 

To  the  bright  stars  of  fame 
Thou  hast  clamber'd  aloft,  on  the  shoulders  of  shame  f 
Yet  time  will  come  when  shame  will  crumble  beneath 
thee, 
When  admiration  at  length  will  be  thine  I 

*  See  the  play  of  The  Robbers, 


318 


,  QUIP.Ii. 

■VTith  moist  eye,  by  tliy  sepulchre  dreaded, 

Man  has  pass'd  ouwarJ — 
Rejoice  iu  the  tears  that  man  sheddeth, 

Oh  thou  soul  of  the  judg'd  ! 
With  moist  eye,  by  thy  sepulchre  dreaded, 

Lately  a,  maiden  pass'd  onward. 

Hearmg  the  fearful  aiinouncemeDt 
Told  of  thy  deeds  by  the  herald  of  marble  ; 
And  the  maiden— rejoice  thee  !  rejoice  thee  : 

Sought  not  to  dry  up  her  tears. 
Far  away  I  stood  as  the  pearls  Avere  falling, 

And  I  shouted  :  Amalia  ! 

Oh,  ye  youths  !     Oh,  ye  youths  ! 
With  the  dangerous  lightning  of  Genius 

Learn  to  play  with  more  caution  ! 
Wildly  his  bit  champs  the  charger  of  Phoebus 

Though,  'neath  the  reins  of  his  master. 
More  gently  he  rocks  Earth  and  Heaven, 

Eein'd  by  a  child's  hand,  he  kindles 
Earth  and  Heaven  in  blazing  destruction  ! 

Obstinate  Phaeton  perish'd. 

Buried  beneath  the  sad  wreck. 

Child  of  the  heavecly  Genius  ! 
Glowing  bosom  all  pantiug  for  action  ! 
Art  thou  charm'd  by  the  tale  of  my  robbe. 
Glowmg  like  thine  was  his  bosom,  and  pantin*-'  loa 

action !  " 

He,  like  thee,  was  the  child  of  the  heavenly  Genius. 
But  thou  smilest  and  go'st — 
Thy  gaze  flies  through  the  realms  of  the  world's 
long  story. 
Moor  the  robber  it  finds  not  there— 
_    Stay,  thou  youth,  and  smile  not ! 
Still  survive  all  his  sins  and  his  shame- 
Robber  Moor  liveth— in  all  but  name. 

QUIRL 

You  tell  me  that  you  feel  surprise 
Because  Quirl's  jiaper's  grown  in  size  • 
And  yet  they're  crying  tlu-ough  the  str'eei 
*tiat  there's  a  rise  in  bread  am\  meat, 


319 
THE  BAD  MONARCHY* 


EARTHiiY  pods — my  lyre  shall  win  your  praise. 
Tliou^'h  but  wont  its  geutlo  sounds  to  raise 

A\  hen  tlio  joyous  feast  the  people  throng; 
Softly,  at  your  i)ompous-souuding  ii.iraes, 
Shyly  round  your  greatness'  puri)le  liames, 

Trembles  now  my  song. 


Answer  !  shall  I  strike  the  golden  string, 
When,  borne  on  by  exultation's  wing. 

O'er  thff  battle-field  your  chariots  trail  ? 
When  ye,  from  tlie  iron  grasp  set  free, 
For  your  mistress'  soft  arms,  joyously 

Change  your  pond'rous  mail  ? 


Shall  my  during  hjTnn,  ye  gods,  resound, 
AVhile  the  golden  splendor  gleams  around, 

Where,  by  mystic  darkness  overcome. 
With  the  thunderbolt  your  spleen  may  play. 
Or  in  crime  Inimanity  array, 

Till — the  grave  is  dumb  t 


Say  !  shall  peace  'neath  crowns  bo  now  my  theme  r 
Shall  I  boast,  ye  princes,  that  ye  dream? — 

While  the  worm  the  monarch's  heart  may  tear. 
Golden  sleep  twines  rour.d  the  Moor  by  stealth' 
.As  he,  at  the  palace,  guards  the  wealth, 

Guards — but  covets  ne'er. 


Show  how  kings  and  galley-slaves,  my  muse. 
Lovingly  one  single  pillow  use, — 

How  their  lightnings  flatter,  when  suppresa'd 
When  their  humors  have  no  jaowcr  to  harm. 
When  their  mimic  IVIinotaurs  are  calm. 

And — the  lions  rest ! 


*  Writtan  in  consequence  of  the  il'-trpatmcnt  Schiller  esperienced  at 
the  huude  of  tho  Giaud  Duke  Churles  of  \Virteiuberg. 


820  THE  BAD  'iON.V&O^S. 

0'p_  thou  Hecata  !  -witli  thy  magic  sea2 
Make  tlie  barr'd-up  grave  its  wealth  reveal,  -_ 

Havk  !  its  {!■  iors  like  thiiuder  open  spring  I 
When  cteatJi's  clit^mal  blast  is  heartfto  sigh, 
And  the  hair  on  end  stands  fearfully, 

Princes'  bliss  I  sing  ! 

Do  I  here  the  strand,  the  coast  detect 

Where  your  -wishes'  haughty  fleet  was  wreck'd, 

W'here  was  stay'd  your  greatness'  proud  c'aree: 
That  they  ne'er  with  glory  may  grow  warm, 
Night,  v;ith  black  and  terror-spreading  arm, 

Porges  monarch  s  here. 

On  the  death-chest  sadly  gleams  the  crown, 
With  its  hea-vy  load  of  pearls  weigh'd  down. 

And  the  sceptre,  needed  now'no  more. 
In  what  splendor  is  the  mould  array'd  > 
let  but  worms  are  with  the  body  paid. 

That — the  world  watch 'd  o'er. 


Haughty  plants  within  that  humble  bed  ■ 
See  how  death  their  pomp  decay'd  and  lied 

With  unblushiijg  rilmldiy  besets  ! 
They  who  rid'd  o'er  north  and  east  and  wes;' 
Suffer  now  his  ev'ry  nauseous  jest 

And — no  sultan  threats  ? 

Leap  for  joy,  ye  stubborn  dumb,  to-day, 
And  your  Ix^avy  slumber  shake  away  ! 

From  the  battle,  victory  upsprings  ! 
Hearken  to  the  trunii^'s  exiiltiiig  song  ! 
Ye  are  worsliipp'd  by  the  shouting  throng  !^ 

Kouse  ye,  then,  ye  kings  .' 

Seven  sleepers  !— to  the  ckrion  hark  ! 
How  it  rings,  and  liow  the  fierce  dogs  bark  ! 

Shots  from  out  a  tliousand  barrels  whizE 
Eager  steeds  are  neighing  for  tlie  wood- 
Soon  the  bristly  boar  rolls  in  his  blood, 

Yours  the  triumph  is  1 


TITE   rEASANTR.  391 

But  ■what  now  ? — Arc  even  pi-inccs  dnmb  ? 
Tow'rd  nio  scomfnl  ccliocs  iiinrfolil  oonic, 

Stculiiif^  tlirouKli  tlio  vault's  terriiic  gloom—' 
Sleep  assails  the  page  by  slow  degrees. 
And  jNIadoiina  givts  to  you  the  keys 

Of — her  hlecpiug-room. 

Not  an  nuswrr — hush'd  ai:d  still  is  all — 
Does  the  veil,  then,  e'en  on  monarch's  fall, 

Which  enshrouds  their  liund>lefiatt'rers'  glance? 
And  ye  ask  for  worship  in  the  du'^t, 
Since  the  blind  jade.  Fate,  a  world  has  thnist 

In  your  jjurse  perchance  ? 

Aiid  ye  clatter,  giant  puppet- troops, 
Marshall'd  in  your  proudly  childish  groups. 

Like  the  juggler  on  the  oin-ra  scei;e? — 
Though  the  sound  may  please  the  vulgar  ear, 
Yet  the  skilfid,  till'd  with  sadness,  jeer 

Powers  so  great,  but  mean. 


Let  your  tow'ring  shamo  be  hid  from  sight 
In  the  garment  of  a  sovereign's  right, 

Fr(mi  the  ambush  of  the  throne  outspriug  ! 
Tremble,  though,  before  the  voice  of  song  : 
Through  the  ])urple,  vengeance  will,  ere  long, 

Strike  down  e'en  a  king  ! 


THE  PEASANTS.* 

Look  outside,  good  friend,  I  pi'ay  ! 

Two  whole  mortal  hours 
Dogs  and  I've  out  here  to-day 

Waited,  by  the  powers  ! 

Rain  comes  down  as  from  a  spout, 
Doomsday-storms  rage  round  about, 

Dripping  are  my  hose  ; 
Drench'd  are  coat  and  mantle  too, 


*  WriUcn  in  the  Siialiiaii  dialect. 


322  THE   PEASANTS. 

Coat  and  mantle,  both  just  new, 

Wretched  plight,  Heav'u  knows  ! 
Pretty  stir's  abroad  to-day  ; 
Look  outside,  good  friend,  I  pray  ! 

Ay,  the  devil  !  look  outside  ! 

Out  is  blown  my  lamp, — 
Gloom  and  night  the  heavens  now  hid«. 

Moon  and  stars  decamp. 
Stumbling  over  Etock  and  stone, 

Jerkin,  coat,  I've  torn,  ochone  ! 

Let  me  pity  beg  ! 
Hedges,  bushes,  all  around. 
Here  a  ditch,  and  there  a  mound, 

Breaking  arm  and  leg. 
Gloom  and  night  the  lieavens  now  hid* 
Ay,  the  devil !  look  outside  ! 


Ay,  the  deuce,  then  look  outside  ! 

Listen  to  my  prayer  ! 
Praying,  singing,  I  have  tried, 

Woukist  thou  have  me  sw  ear  ? 
I  shall  be  a  steaming  mass, 
Freeze  to  rock  and  stone,  alas  ! 

If  I  don't  remove. 
All  this,  love,  I  owe  to  thee. 

Winter-bumps  thou'lt  make  for  me. 

Thou  confounded  love  ! 
Cold  and  gloom  spread  far  and  wide  I 
Ay,  the  deuce  !  then  look  outside  ! 


Thousand  thunders  !  what's  this  now 

From  the  window  shoots  ? 
Oh,  thou  witch  !     'Tis  dirt,  I  vow. 

That  my  head  salutes  ! 
Rain,  frost,  hunger,  tempests  wild, 
Bear  I  for  the  devil's  child. 

Now  I'm  vex'd  full  sore. 
Worse  and  worse  'tis  !     I'll  begone. 
Pray  be  quick,  thou  Evil  One  ! 

I'll  remain  no  more. 
Pretty  tumult  there's  outside  ! 

Fai-e  thee  well — I'll  homeward  etrid«. 


323 

THE  SATYR  AND  MY  MUSE. 

An  apod  sntyr  sought 

Around  my  Muse  to  pnsB, 
Attempting  to  \y<\y  court, 

Aud  eyed  her  foudly  through  liis  glajs. 

By  Phojbtis'  gohlen  torch, 

By  Lnufi's  ])idlid  light, 
Around  her  temple's  jjoreh 

Crept  the  unhappy  shai-p-ear'd  wight  j 

And  warbled  many  a  lay, 

Her  beanty  s  ])raise  to  sing, 
Aud  tiereely  sernp'd  away 

On  his  discordant  fiddle-string. 

With  tears,  too,  swell'd  his  eyes. 

As  large  as  nuts,  or  hirger ; 
He  gasp'd  forth  lieavy  sighs. 

Like  music  from  Sileuus'  charger. 

The  Muse  sat  still,  and  play'd 

Within  her  grotto  fair, 
And  peevishly  survey'd 

Siguor  Adonis  Goatsfoot  there, 

"  Who  ever  would  kiss  thee. 

Thou  ugly,  dirty  dunce  ? 
Wouldst  thou  a  gallant  be, 

As  Midas  was  Apollo  once  ? 

"  Speak  out,  old  horned  boor  ! 

What  cliarms  canst  thou  display  f 
Thou'rt  swarthy  as  a  Moor, 

And  shaggy  as  a  beast  of  prey. 

"  I'm  by  a  bard  ador'd 

In  iar  Teutoniu's  land  ; 
To  him,  who  strikes  the  chord, 

I'm  liuk'd  in  firm  and  loving  baud." 


324  THE  SATYR  AXD  MY  MTJ8K. 

Slie  spoke,  and  Btraightway  fled 

The  spoiler, — he  pursued  her. 
And,  by  hia  passion  led. 

Soon   caught  her,  shouted,  and  thus  woo'd 
her  : 

"  Thou  prudish  one,  stay,  stay  !  ; 

And  hearken  unto  nie  !  ' 

Thy  poet,  I  dare  say. 

Repents  the  pledge  he  gave  to  thee. 

"Behold  this  pretty  thing, — 

No  merit  would  I  claim, — 
Its  weight  I  often  fling 

On  many  a  clo^\'n's  back,  to  his  shame. 

"  His  sharpness  it  increases, 

And  spices  his  discourse, 
Instilling  learned  theses. 

When  mounted  on  his  hobby-horse. 

"  The  best  of  songs  are  known, 

Thanks  to  this  heavy  wliip  ; 
Yet  fool's  blood  'tis  alone 

We  see  beneath  its  lashes  drip, 

"This  lash,  then  shall  be  his, 

If  thou'lt  give  me  a  smack  ; 
Then  thou  mayst  hasten,  miss, 

Upon  thy  Germjin  sweetheart's  track." 

The  Muse,  with  purpose  sly, 

Ere  long  agi-eed  to  yield — 
The  satyr  said  good-bye, 

And  now  the  lash  I  wield  ! 

And  I  wont  drop  it  here, 

Believe  in  what  I  say  ! 
The  kisses  of  one's  dear 

One  does  not  lightly  throw  away. 

They  kindle  rnptures  sweet. 

But  fools  ne'er  know  their  flame  ! 

The  gentle  Musci  will  kneel  at  honor's  feet 
But  cudgels  those  who  mar  her  tame. 


325 

IHE   WINTER  NIGHT. 

Farewkli.  !  the  beauteous  suu  is  sinking  fast, 
,         The  moon  lifts  np  her  head  ; 
Farewell  !  mute  night  o'er  earth's  wide  round  at  last 
Her  darksome  raven-wing  has  spread. 

Across  the  wintry  plain  no  echoes  float, 

Save,  from  the  rock's  deep  womb, 
The  murmuring  streamlet,  and  the  screech-owl's  uot», 

Arising  from  the  forest's  gloom. 

The  fish  repose  within  tlio  wateiy  deeps, 

The  snail  draws  in  his  head  ; 
The  dog  beneath  the  tal)le  calmly  sleeps, 

My  wife  is  slumb'ring  ia  her  bed. 

A  hearty  welcome  to  ye,  brethern  mine  I 

Friends  of  my  life's  young  spring  I 
Perchance  around  a  llask  of  Rhenish  wine 

Yc're  gather'd  now,  i-.i  joyous  ring. 

The  brimming  goblet's  bright  and  purple  beams 

Mirror  the  worl  I  Avith  joy, 
And  pleasure  from  the  golden  grape-juice  gleams- 

Pleasuro  untainted  by  alloy. 

Conoeal'd  behind  departed  years,  your  eyes 

Find  roses  now  alone  ; 
And,  as  the  summer  tempest  quickly  flies. 

Your  heavy  sorrows,  too,  are  flown. 

From  childish  sports,  to  e'en  the  doctor's  hood, 

The  book  of  life  ye  thumb. 
And  reckon  o'l^r,  in  light  and  joyous  mood, 

Your  toils  in  the  Gymnasium  ; 

Ye  count  the  oaths  that  Terence — may  he  ne'er, 

Though  buried,  cahnly  slumber  ! — • 
Caus'd  you,  despite  Minelli's  notv^s,  to  swear, — 

Count  your  wry  faces  without  number. 


326  THE   WINTER  KIGHT. 

How,  when  the  dread  examinations  came, 

The  boy  with  terror  shook ! 
How,  when  the  rector  had  pronounced  his  name; 

The  sweat  stream'd  down  upon  his  book ! 


All  this  is  now  involv'd  in  mist  for  ever, 

The  boy  is  now  a  man, 
And  Frederick,  wiser  grown,  discloses  never 

What  little  Fritz  once  lov'd  to  plan. 

At  length — a  doctor  one's  declar'd  to  be, — 

A  regimental  one  ! 
And  then, — and  not  too  soon, — discover  we 

That  plans  soap-bubles  are  alone.* 

Blow  on  !  blow  on  !  and  let  the  bubles  rise. 

It'  but  this  heart  remain ! 
And  if  a  German  laurel  as  the  prize 

Of  soug,  'tis  giv«!U  me  to  gain  ! 


*  An  illusion  to  tlic  ai)i)ointmont  of  reciinicntal  s-iirfzeon,  conferred  up- 
on Schiller  by  tlie  Grand  J>iike  llmrlos  in  17S0,  when  he  was  21  y«ar»  of 
age. 


APPENDIX: 


CONTAINING 

IRANSALATIONS  OF  THE  VARIOUS  POEMS,  ETC. 

COMPRISED  IN 

SCHILLER'S  DRAMATIC  WORKS. 


*  r  ,  .dT 


APPENDIX. 


The  following  variations  ajjpear  in  the  first  two  verses 
o(  IR'cfor'fi  FareiocU  (see  pi^ge  1),  as  given  in  The 
Iiobbcrs,  act  ii.  scene  2. 


ANDROMACHE. 


Wilt  thou,  Hector,  leave  me  ? — leave  me  weeping, 
Where  Achilles' murJeroUH  blade  is  heaping 

Bloody  off'rings  on  Patroclus'  gravt>  ? 
Who,  alas,  will  teach  thino  infant  truly 
Spears  to  hurl,  the  gods  to  honor  duly, 

When  thou'rt  buried  'ueath  dark  Xanthus'  wave  ? 


HECTOR. 


Dearest  wife,  go, — fetch  my  death-spear  glancing, 
Let  mo  join  the  battle-danc^e  entrancing. 

For  my  shoulders  bear  tha  weight  of  Troy  ! 
Heaven  will  be  our  Astyanax'  protector! 
Falling  as  his  country's  savior,  Hector 

Soon  will  greet  thee  in  the  realms  of  joy. 


Thk  following  additional  verse  is  found  in  Amalia^s  Son^ 
(see  page  2),  as  sung  in  'J7ic  liobbcrs,  act  iii.  scene  1. 
It  is  introtluced  between  the  first  and  second  verses,  as 
they  appear  in  the  Poems. 

His  embrace —what  niadd'ning  rapture  bound  us! — 
Bosom  throbb'd  'gainst  bosom  with  wild  might; 

Mouth  iiiid  car  were  chaiu'd — nip^ht  reipfn'd  around  US — 
And  the  spirit  wing'd  to^''rd  lu-avon  its  flight. 


330  APPENDIX. 

From  The  Robbers,  act  iv.  scene  5. 

CHORUS  OF  BOBBERS. 

What  so  good  for  banishing  sorrow 
As  women,  theft  and  bloody  affrny? 

"We  must  dance  in  the  air  to-morrow, 
Therefore  let's  be  right  merry  to-day  ! 

A  free  and  jovial  life  we've  led, 

Ever  since  we  began  it. 
Beneath  the  tree  we  make  our  bed, 
We  ply  our  task  when  tlie  storm's  o'erhead 

And  deem  the  moon  our  planet. 
Tlie  fellow  we  swear  by  is  Mercury, 
A  capital  hand  at  our  trade  is  he. 

To-day  we  become  the  guests  of  a  priest, 
A  rich  farmer  to-morrow  must  feed  us  ; 

And  as  for  the  future,  we  care  not  the  least. 
But  leave  it  to  Heaven  to  heed  us. 

And  when  our  throats  with  a  vintage  rare 

We've  long  enough  been  supplying, 
Fresh  courage  and  strength  we  drink  in  there. 
And  with  the  Evil  One  friendship  swear, 
Who  down  iu  hell  is  frying. 

The  groans  o'er  fathers  reft  of  breath. 
The  sorrowing  mothers'  cry  of  death. 
Deserted  brides'  sad  sobs  and  tears. 
Are  sweetest  music  to  our  ears. 

Ha  I  when  under  the  axe  each  one  quivering  lies. 
When  they  bellow  like  caives,   and  fall  round  ns 
like  flies. 

Naught  gives  such  pleasure  to  our  sight, 

It  fills  our  ears  with  wild  delight. 

And  when  arrives  the  fatal  day 

The  devil  straight  may  fetch  us  '. 
Onr  fee  we  get  without  delay — 
They  instantly  Jack-Ketch  us. 
One  draiight  upon  the  road  of  liquor  bright  and  clear, 
And  hip  I  hip  \  hin  I  hurrah  1  we're  seen  no  longer  here ! 


At>l»KNt>IX.  331 

From  The  Robbers,  net  iv.  seen*  6. 

MOOR'S  SONG. 

BRUTUS. 

JTe  are  welcomo,  peaceful  realms  of  light  ? 

Oil,  receive  lloine's  last  surviving  Bon  I 
From  Pliilippi,  from  the  murderous  tight, 

Come  I  now,  my  race  of  sorrow  run. — 
Cassius,  ^horo  art  thou? — Home  overthrown  '. 

All  my  l)i<tliern's  loving  band  destroy 'd  I 
Safety  find  I  at  death's  door  alone. 

And  the  world  to  Brutus  ia  a  void  I 

OJESAB. 

Who  now,  with  ne'er-subdued-one's  tread, 

Hither  from  yon  rocks  makes  haste  to  come? — 
Ha  !  if  by  no  vision  I'm  misled, 

"lis  the  footstep  of  a  child  of  Eome.-— 
Son  of  Tiber — whence  dost  thou  appear  ? 

Stands  the  seven  hill'd  city  as  of  yore? 
Oft  her  orphan'd  lot  awakes  my  tear, 

For,  alas,  her  Caesar  is  no  more  ! 

BRUTUS. 

Ha  !  thou  with  the  tJiree-and-twenty  wounds  ' 

Who  hath,  dead  one,  summon'd  thee  to  light  ? 
Back  to  gaping  Orcus'  fearful  bounds. 

Haughty  mourner  !  Triumph  not  to-night 
On  Philippi's  iron  altar,  lo  ! 

Reeks  now  Freed()m"s  final  victim's  blood  ; 
Rome  o'er  Brutus'  bi(»r  feels  her  death-throe, — 

He  seeks  Minos.  —Back  to  thy  dark  flood  ? 

G^SAIl. 

Oh,  the  death-stroke  Brutus'  sword  then  hurl'd  ! 

Thou,  too— Brutus— thou?  Could  this  thing  be? 
Sou  !— It  was  thy  father  !— Son  !  The  world 

Would  have  fallen  heritage  to  thee  ! 
Go — 'mongst  Romans  thou  art  deem'd  immortal, 

For  thy  steel  hath  pierc'd  thy  father's  breast. 


332  APPENDIX. 

Go — and  sliout  it  even  to  yon  portal : 

'  Brutus  is  'mongst  Rouians  deem'd  immortal, 

For  his  steel  hath  pierc'd  his  father's  breast." 
Go — thou  know'st  now  what  on  Lethe's  strand 

Made  me  as  a  prisoner  stand. 

Now,  grim  steersman,  push  thy  bark  from  land/ 

BKUTUS. 

Father,  stay  ! — In  all  earth's  realms  so  fair, 

It  hath  been  my  lot  to  know  but  one, 
"Who  with  mighty  Ca?sar  could  compare  ; 

And  of  yore  thou  calledst  him  thy  son. 
None  but  Cfesar  could  a  Rome  o'erthrow, 

Brutus  only  made  great  Ccesar  fear; 
Where  lives  Brutus,  Caesar's  blood  must  flow  ; 

If  thy  path  lies  yonder,  mine  is  here. 

From  Wallenstcin'' s  Camp,  scene  7. 

eeckuit's  song. 

How  sweet  the  wild  sound 

Of  drum  and  of  fife ! 
To  roam  o'er  earth's  round, 

Lead  a  wandering  life, 
With  a  steed  train'd  aright. 
And  bold  for  the  fight, 
With  a  sword  by  the  side, 
To  rove  far  and  wide. — 
Quick,  nimble,  and  free 
As  the  finch  that  we  see 
On  bushes  and  trees, 
Or  braving  tlie  breeze, — 
Huzza,  then  !  the  Friedlander's  banner  for  me  ! 


From  ]Valle7istein'H  Camp,  scene  the  last. 
SECOND  cuiKASSiEK  sings. 

(Jp,  up,  my  brave  comrades  !  to  horse  !  to  horse  ! 

Let  us  haste  to  the  field  and  to  freedom  ! 
To  the  field,  for  'tis  there  tliat  is  prov'd  our  heart's  force, 

'Tis  there  tliat  in  earnest  we  need  'em  ! 
None  otlier  can  there  our  places  supply. 
Each  must  stand  alone.  — on  himself  must  rely. 


'appkndix.  333 

CHORtre. 

None  other  can  there  our  jihices  su]:)ply, 
Euch  mubt  fatiiiid  aloue, — ;)ii  himself  mubt  rely. 

DRAGOON. 

Now  freedom  appears  from  the  world  to  have  flown, 
None  but  lords  a  id  their  vassals  one  traces  ; 

While  falsehood  and  cunning  are  ruling  alone 
O'er  tlie  living  cowardly  racis. 

The  man  who  cm  look  upon  death  without  fear — 

The  soldier, — is  now  the  sole  freeman  left  here. 

CHORUS. 

The  man  who  cm  look  upon  death  without  fear-- 
The  soldier, — is  now  the  sole  freeman  left  here. 

FIRST  YAGER. 

Tlie  cares  of  this  life  he  casts  them  away, 

Untroubled  by  care  or  by  sorrow  ; 
He  rides  to  his  iiite  Avith  a  countenance  gay, 

And  tinds  it  to-day  or  to-morrow  ; 
And  if  'tis  to-morrow,  to-day  we'll  employ 
To  drink  full  deeiJ  of  the  goblet  of  joy, 

CHORUS. 

And  if  'tis  to-morrow,  to-day  we'll  employ 
To  drink  full  deep  of  the  goblet  of  joy. 

[They  re-Jill  their  ylassen,  and  drink.  \ 

CAVALRY  SERGEANT. 

The  skies  o'er  him  shower  his  lot  fill'd  with  mirth, 
He  gains,  without  toil,  its  full  measure  ; 

The  peasant,  who  grulis  in  the  womb  of  the  earth, 
Believes  that  he'll  find  there  the  treasiire. 

Through  lifetime  ho  shovels  and  digs  like  a  slave, 

^nd  digs — till  at  lejigth  he  has  dug  hia  own  grave. 


334  APPENDIX. 

CHORTTS. 

Through  J  'fetime  he  shovels  and  digs  like  a  slave, 
Ami  digs- -till  at  leugth  he  has  dug  his  own  grave, 

FIKST  YAGER, 

The  horsoman,  as  well  as  his  swift- footed  beast, 

Are  gu(jsts  by  whom  all  are  affrighted. 
When  gliuimer  the  lamps  at  the  wedding  feast, 

In  the  banquet  he  joins  uninvited  ; 
He  wooy  not  long,  and  with  gold  he  ne'er  buys, 
But  carries  by  storm  love's  blissful  prize. 

CHORUS. 

He  woos  not  long,  and  with  gold  he  ne'er  buys, 
But  carries  by  storm  love's  blissful  prize. 

SECOND  CUIRASSIER. 

Why  weeps  the  maiden  ?  Why  sorrows  she  so  ? 

Let  me  hence,  let  me  hence,  girl,  I  pray  thee  ? 
The  soldier  on  earth  no  sure  quarters  can  know  ; 

With  true  love  he  ne'er  can  repay  thee. 
Fnta  hurries  him  onward  with  fury  blind, 
His  peace  he  never  can  leave  behind. 

CHORUS. 

Fate  hurries  him  onward  with  fury  blind, 
His  peace  he  never  can  leave  behind. 

FIRST  YAGER. 

iTaking  his  two  neighbors  by  the  hand.     The  rest  do 
the  same,  forming  a  large  semicircle. ) 

Away,  then,  my  comrades,  our  chargers  let's  mount ! 

In  the  battle  the  bosom  bounds  lightly  ! 
Youth  boils,  and  life's  goblet  istill  foams  at  the  fount. 


XFPENDTX.  83ff 


Awjiy  I  -wJiile  the  spirit  glows  brightly  1 

Culess  yo  have  courage  your  life  to  stake. 

That  life  yo  never  your  owu  cuu  make  I 


CHORUS. 


(Jnless  ye  have  courage  your  life  to  stake, 
That  life  ye  never  your  own  can  make. 


From  William  I'cU,  net  i.  sceae  1. 

Scene — The  higJi  roclnj  fhore  of  the   Lake  of  Lxiccvne,   op 
pox.  te  Hchwytz. 

Tlie  Lake  forms  an  inlet  in  the  land;  a  cottarje  is  near  the 
shore;  a  Flshcr-boy  is  rowing  in  a  boat.  Beyond  the  Lake 
are  seen  thcgreenpas'ures,  the  villa ff<s,  and  farms  of  Schicylz, 
gloxcing  in  the  sunshine.  On  the  left  of  the  Spectator  are 
the  peaks  of  the  JIacken,  enveloped  in  clouds;  on  his  right,  in 
the  distance,  are  seen  the  glaciers.  Before  the  curtain  rises, 
the  Ranzdes  Vaches  and  the  musicxtl  sound  of  the  cattle- 
bells  are  heard,  and  continue  also  for  some  timo  after  the 
scene  opens. 

FISHER-BOY  {stnffs  in  his  boat). 

AiB — Bans  des  Vaches. 

Bright  smiles  the  lake,  as  it  wooa  to  its  deep,— 
A  boy  on  its  margin  of  green  lies  asleep  ; 
Then  hears  he  a  strain, 

Like  the  flute's  gentle  note, 
Sweet  as  voices  of  angels 
la  Eden  that  float. 
And  when  ho  awakens,  with  ecstasy  blest, 
The  waters  are  playing  all  over  his' breast. 
From  tlie  dei>tlis  calls  a  voice  : 
"  Dearest  child,  with  me  go  \ 
I  lure  down  the  sleeper, 
1  draw  him  below." 


836  APPENDIX. 

HEKDSMAN  (on  the  mountain). 
Air —  Variation  of  the  Ranz  des  Vachea. 


Ye  meadows,  farewell ! 
Ye  pastures  so  glomng  ' 
The  herdsman  is  going, 
For  summer  has  fled  ! 
"We  depart  to  the  mountain  ;  we'll  come  back  again, 
When  the  cuckoo  is  calling, — when  wakens  the  strain, — 
When  the  earth  is  trick'd  out  with  her  flowers  so  gay, 
(When  the  stream  sparkles  bright  in  the  sweet  mouth  of 
May. 

Ye  meadows,  farewell ! 
Ye  pastures  so  glowing  ! 
Tlie  herdsman  is  going. 
For  summer  has  fled  ! 


CHAMOIS-HUNTER  (appearing  on  th",  top  of  a  rock^ 
Air — Second  Variation  of  the  Ranz  des  Vaches, 


O'er  the  heights  growls  the  thunder,  while  quivers  the 

bridge. 
Yet  no  fear  feels  the  hunter,  though  dizzy  the  ridgo  ; 
He  strides  nndaunted. 

O'er  plains  icy-bound, 
Where  spring  never  blossoms, 
Nor  verdure  is  found  ; 
And,  a  broad  sea  of  mist  lying  under  his  feet, 
Man's  dwellings  his  vision  no  longer  can  greet ; 
The  world  he  but  views 

"Vvlien  the  clouds  broken  are, — 
With  its  i):istures  so  green, 
Through  the  vapor  afar. 


i  't'\  dliani  TcU,  act  ili,  soiO«  L 
"WauiXB  sings: 

Bow  aii'l  nrro'.v  bearing 
Over  hills  and  streams 

Mo\H'3  the  hnntrr  daring, 
Sovju  as  daylight  glearuH. 

As  all  flying  creatures 
Own  the  eagle's  sway, 

3o  tlie  hunter,  nature's 
Mounts  and  crags  obey. 

Over  space  he  reigneth,  ' 
And  ho  makes  his  prize 

A.11  his  l)olt  attaint  th, 
All  that  creeps  or  flies. 


Fro»n  Williain  Tell,  act  iv,  scene  3. 

CHORUS  OF  BROTHERS  OP  MERCT. 

Death  comes  to  man  with  hasty  stride. 
No  respite  is  to  him  e'er  given  ; 

He's  stricken  down  in  manhood's  pride, 
E'en  in  mid  race  from  earth  he's  driven 

Prepar'd,  or  not,  to  go  from  here, 

Before  his  Judge  he  must  appear  \ 


From  Turandot,  act  ii,  scene  4 


RIDDLE. 


The  tree  whereon  decay 

All  tliose  from  mort.ils  sprung,- 
FuU  old,  and  yet  whoso  spray 

Is  ever  green  and  youivg  ; 


338  APPENDIX. 


To  catch  the  light,  it  rolls 
Each  leaf  upon  one  side  ; 

The  other,  black  as  coals, 
The  sun  has  ne'er  described. 

It  places  on  new  rings 

As  often  as  it  blows  ; 
The  age,  too,  of  all  things 

To  moi-tal  gaze  it  shows. 
Upon  its  bark  so  green 

A  name  oft  meets  the  eye, 
Tet  'tis  no  longer  seen. 

When  it  grows  old  and  dry. 
This  tree — what  can  it  mean  ? 

I  wait  for  thy  reply.  * 


From  Mary  Stuart,  act  iii,  scene  1. 

Sjene — A  Park.     Mary  advances  hastily  from  behin^ 
some  trees.     Hannah  Ivennedv  follows  her  slowly. 

MAKX. 

Let  me  my  newly- won  liberty  taste  I 

Let  me  rejoice  as  a  child  once  again  ! 
And  as  on  pinions,  with  airy  foot  haste 
Over  the  tapestried  green  of  the  plain  I 
Have  I  escap'd  from  my  prison  so  drear  ? 

Shall  I  no  more  in  my  sad  dungeon  pine? 
Let  me  in  long  and  in  thirsty  draughts  hei» 
Drink  in  the  breezes,  so  free,  so  divine  I 


Thanks,  thanks,  ye  trees,  in  smiling  verdure  dress'd. 
In  tliat  yo  vail  my  prison-walls  from  sight ! 

I'll  dream  that  I  am  free  and  blest  : 

Why  should  I  waken  from  a  dream  so  bright  ? 

Do  not  the  spacious  heavens  encompass  me  ? 

Behold  !  my  gaze,  unshackled,  free, 

•  The  year. 


APPENDIX.  33  J 

Pierces  with  joy  the  trnrklrss  realms  of  light! 
There,  Avhoro  tlie  grey-ting'd  hills  of  mist  project, 

My  kiiip<loin'8  boundnrios  begin  ; 
You  cloiuls,  tliiit  tow'rd  the  south  their  course  direct 

Frauce's  far-distaut  oceau  ueek  to  win. 

Swift-flying  clouds,  hardy  Bailors  through  air  ! 
Mortid  hath  roam'd  with  ye,  sail'd  with  ye,  ne'er  . 
Greetings  of  love  to  my  youthful  home  bear  ! 
I  am  ii  prisoner,  I  am  in  chains. 
Ah,  not  a  herald,  save  )ic,  now  rematus  ! 
Free  through  tlie  air  hath  your  path  ever  been, 
Ye  are  not  subject  to  England's  proud  queen  ! 
***** 

Yonder's  a  fisherman  trimming  his  boat. 

E'en  that  frail  skill"  from  all  danger  might  tear  me, 

And  to  the  dwellings  of  friends  might  bear  me. 
Scarcely  his  earnings  can  keeii  life  afloat, 
llichlv  with  treasures  his  hip  I'd  heap  over, — 

Oh  !  what  a  draiight  should  reward  him  to-day  J 
Fortune  held  fast  in  his  nets  he'd  discover. 

If  in  his  bark  he  Avould  take  me  away  ! 
***** 

Hear'st  thou  the  horn  of  the  hunter  resound, 
Wak'ning  the  echo  through  forest  and  plain? 

Ah,  on  my  spiritc  d  courser  to  bound  ! 

Once  more  to  jt)in  in  the  mirth-stirring  train  ! 
Hark  !  how  the  dearly-lov'd  tones  come  again  I 

Blissful,  yet  sad,  the  remembrance  they  wake ; 
Oft  have  they  fallen  with  joy  on  mine  ear, 
When  in  the  highlands  the  bugle  rang  clear, 

Bousing  the  chase  over  mountain  and  brake. 


From  The  Maid  of  Orleans,  Prologiie,  scene  4. 
JOAN  OF  ARC  {soliloquizing). 

Farewell,  yc  mountains,  and  ye  pastures  dear 
Ye  still  and  happy  valleys,  fare  ye  well ! 

No  longer  may  Joan's  footsteps  linger  here  I 
Joan  bids  ye  now  a  long,  a  last  farewell  1 


APPENDIX. 

Te  meadows  that  I  water'd,  and  each  busli 
Set  by  my  bands,  ne'er  may  your  verdure  fail ! 
Farewell,  ye  grots,  ye  springs  that  cooling  gush ! 

Thou  echo,  blissful  voice  of  this  sweet  vale. 
So  Avont  to  give  me  back  an  answering  strain, — 
Joan  must  depart,  and  ne'er  return  again  ! 

Te  haunts  of  all  my  silent  joys  of  old, 
I  leave  ye  now  beliiud  for  evermore  ! 

Disperse,  ye  lambs,  far  o'er  the  trackless  wold  ! 
She  now  hath  gone  who  tended  you  of  yore  ! 

I  must  away  to  guard  another  fold, 

On  yonder  field  of  danger,  stain'd  with  gore. 

Thus  am  I  bidden  by  a  spirit's  tone  : 

'Tis  no  vain  earthly  longing  diives  me  on. 

For  he  who  erst  to  Moses  on  the  height 
Of  Horeb,  in  the  fiery  bush  came  down, 

And  bade  him  stand  iu  haughty  Pharaoh's  sight, -^- 
He  who  made  choice  of  Jesse's  jiious  son. 

The  shepherd,  as  his  champion  in  the  fight, — 
He  who  to  shepherds  grace  hath  ever  shown, — 

He  thus  address'd  me  from  this  lofty  tree  : 

"Go  hence  !     On  earth  my  witness  thou  shalt  be  .' 

"In  rugged  brass,  then,  clothe  thy  members  now, 
In  steel  thy  gentle  bosom  must  be  dress'd  ! 

No  mortal  love  tliy  heart  must  e'er  allow. 
With  earthly  passion's  sinful  flame  ijossess'd. 

Ne'er  will  the  bridal  wreath  adorn  thy  brow, 
No  darling  infant  blossom  on  thy  breast ; 

Yet  thou  with  warlike  honors  shalt  be  laden. 

Raising  the  high  above  each  earthly  maiden. 

"  For  when  the  bravest  in  the  fight  despair. 
When  Franco  appears  to  wait  her  final  blow, 

Then  thou  my  lioly  Oriliamme  must  bear  ; 
And,  as  the  rii)en'd  corn  the  reapers  mow. 

Hew  down  the  conqueror  as  he  triumphs  there  ; 
His  fortune's  wheel  thou  thus  wilt  overthrow, 

To  France's  hero-sons  salvations  bring. 

Deliver  Ilheims  once  more,  and  crown  thy  king  I 


APPENDIX. 

The  Lord  hath  promis'd  to  seud  down  a  sipn  : 
A  helmet  He  hath  sent,  it  comes  from  Jfiin, — 

His  sword  endows  mine  ami  with  Htreugth  divinei, 
I  feel  the  couraf^e  of  the  cherubim  ; 

To  join  tlio  battle-turmoil  huw  I  pine  ! 

A  raffing  tempest  thrills  through  ev'ry  limb  ; 

Tlie  summons  to  the  field  bursts  on  mine  ear, 

My  charger  paws  the  ground,  the  trump  rings  clear. 


From  The  Maid  of  Orleans,  act  iv,  scene  1. 

Scene — A  hall  prepared  for  a  festival. 

The  pillars  are  covered  tvith  festoons  of  flowers;  Jlute* 
and  hautboys  are  heard  behind  the  scene. 

Joan  of  aec  (soliloquizing). 

Rach  weapon  rests,  war's  tumults  cease  to  sound, 
While  dance  and  song  succeed  the  bloody  fray  ; 

Through  ev'ry  street  the  merry  footsteps  bound, 
Altar  and  church  are  clad  in  bright  ai'ray. 

And  gates  of  branches  green  aiise  around, 
Ovc^  the  columns  twine  the  garlands  gay  ; 

Kheims  cannot  hold  the  ever-swelling  train 

That  seeks  tlie  nation-festival  to  gain. 

All  with  one  joyous  feeling  are  elate, 

One  single  thought  is  thrilling  ev'ry  breast ; 

What,  until  now,  was  sever'd  by  fierce  hate. 
Is  by  the  general  rapture  truly  bless'd. 

By  each  who  call'd  this  land  his  parent-state, 
The  name  of  Frenchman  proudly  is  confess'd  ; 

The  glory  is  reviv'd  of  olden  days, 

And  to  her  regal  son  Franco  homage  pays. 

Yet  /  who  have  achiev'd  this  work  of  pride, 
/  cannot  share  the  rapture  felt  by  all ; 

My  heart  is  chang'd,  my  heart  is  tum'd  aside, 
It  shuns  t'he  splendor  of  this  festival  ; 

Tis  in  the  British  camp  it  seeks  to  hide, — 
'Tis  ou  the  foe  my  yeai'uiug  glances  fall ; 


And  from  the  joyous  circle  I  must  steal. 
My  bosom's  crime  o'erpowering  to  conceaL 

Who  ?    I  ?    What !   in  my  bosom  chaste 

Can  mortal's  image  have  a  seat  ? 
This  heart,  by  heav'nly  glory  graced, — 

Dares  it  with  earthly  love  to  beat  ? 
The  savior  of  my  country,  I, — 
The  champion  of  the  Lord  Most  High, 
Own  for  my  country's  foe  a  flame — 
To  the  chaste  sun  my  guilt  proclaim, 
And  not  be  crush'd  beneath  my  shame  ? 

{The  music  behind  the  scene  changes  into  a  soft,  meU 

ing  melody.) 

Woe  !  oh  woe  !  what  strains  enthralling  ! 

How  bewildering  to  mine  ear  ! 
Each  his  voice  belov'd  recalling. 

Charming  up  his  image  dear  1 

Would  that  battle-tempests  bound  me  ! 
Would  that  spears  were  whizzing  round  m© 

In  the  hotly-raging  strife  I 

Could  my  courage  find  fresh  Hfe  ! 

How  those  tones,  those  voices  blest 

Coil  around  my  bosom  burning  ! 
All  the  strength  within  my  breast 

Melting  into  tender  yearning, 

Into  tears  of  sadness  turning  ! 


SThe  flutes  are  again  heard — she  falls  into  a  sildti 
•melancholy.') 

Gentle  crook  !  oh  that  I  never 

For  the  sword  had  barter'd  thee  ! 
Sacred  oak  !  why  didst  thou  ever 

From  thy  branches  speak  to  me  ? 
Would  that  Thou  to  me  in  splendor, 

Queen  of  heav'n,  hadst  ne'er  come  down  I 
Take — all  claim  I  must  surrender, — 

Take,  oh  take  away  thy  crown  ! 


ATTTSSDTX.  {^ 


Ah,  I  open  saw  yon  heaven, 

Saw  iho  features  of  the  blest  f 
Yet  to  earth  my  hopes  are  riven, 

lu  the  skies  they  ne'er  can  rest  ! 
Wlierofcjre  make  me  i)ly  with  ardor 

Tliis  vocation,  terror-fraught  ? 
Would  this  heart  were  reuder'd  harder 

That  by  heaven  to /eel  "was  taught  I 

To  proclaim  Thy  might  sublime 
Those  select,  who,  free  from  crime 
In  Thy  lasting  mansions  stand  ; 
Send  Thou  forth  Thy  spirit-band, 
The  Immortal,  and  the  Pure, 
Feelingless,  from  tears  secure  ! 
Never  choose  a  maiden  fair, 
Shejjhcrdess'  weak  spirit  ne'er  ! 

Kings'  dissensions  whorcfore  dread  } 

"Why  tl  3  fortune  of  the  fight  ? 
Quileleosly  my  lambs  once  fed  I 

On  the  silent  mountain-height. 
Yet  Thou  into  life  didst  bear  me. 

To  the  halls  where  monarchs  throaS; 
lin  the  toils  of  guilt  to  snare  me — 

Ah,  the  choice  was  not  mine  own  ! 

THH  KND. 


--.?--     "£, 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGiONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


r>i  iTHf  ON 


«'^.0^i^„fflMV' 


'/vV   000  357  828    3 


'■';•';■■''.•?'-■'■..■■" 

■.,i,;:-»7^.:i:;:4';t 


Univ 
S( 

1 


